


No One Like You

by StilesBastille24



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 80s movies references, Billy & Steve get together, Billy is recovering, Bisexual Steve, M/M, Max is a great sister, Robin is an awesome best friend, Slow Burn, Steve helps him do that, Steve is a good guy, also: hair washing, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StilesBastille24/pseuds/StilesBastille24
Summary: Max rolls up on her skateboard. She’s got this serious look on her, with her brows curved down, her mouth a firm straight line.  “I need a ride to the hospital.”Steve’s up in a heartbeat, smashing his cigarette beneath his sneaker and fishing his car keys out of his back pocket. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”Max stops storming across his lawn. She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and Steve sees the battle in her clear blue eyes about whether or not to cry. “I’ve gotta go see Billy, okay?”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 38
Kudos: 524





	1. can't wait for the nights with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and chapter titles comes from Scorpions song No One Like You because it is such a Steve & Billy song to me. 
> 
> This story really took on a life of it's own and ended up being about four times as long as I envisioned. If you like it, let me know, I'd be thrilled.

Following the Starcourt Disaster, there’s a lot of, like, shit going down in Hawkins. And while Steve is very fucking much aware of how small his social circle has grown since joining up with Dustin and the Party, a lot of that shit is going down with them.

So, honestly, Steve’s not all that surprised when he’s sitting on his parents' porch smoking a cigarette and listening to his mom and dad having yet another screaming match in the foyer, that Max rolls up on her skateboard. She’s got this serious look on her, with her brows curved down, her mouth a firm straight line, and she’s marching up to Steve like she’s gunning for him. 

“What’s up, Pippi?” he asks even though, honestly, he can’t imagine anyone looking less like the carefree Pippi Longstocking. 

“I need a ride to the hospital.”

Steve’s up in a heartbeat, smashing his cigarette beneath his sneaker and fishing his car keys out of his back pocket. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Max stops storming across his lawn. She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and Steve sees the battle in her clear blue eyes about whether or not to cry. “I’ve gotta go see Billy, okay?”

“Oh.” Steve’s sure his shock rolls across his features. “I mean, yeah, I can take you.” He crosses the grass to her and together they head for his car. “Is, like, everything okay? Because last I heard, I mean, he still hadn’t woken up?”

Billy’s been in a coma ever since that night at Starcourt. He went down so fucking hard, black shit just oozing out of him, Max sobbing that he was dead, and sure as shit it looked like it. But when the paramedics showed up, they dragged Billy out, hoisted him into the back of an ambulance, and he’s been playing Sleeping Beauty ever since. 

The doctors had explained it was his body’s only defense mechanism. Shutting Billy entirely down in the vain hope that he might recover and wake up again. But it’s been two weeks and except for the nasty ass tentacle wounds slowly, so slowly, healing, nothing’s changed. Steve only knows any of this because Max knows it which means Lucas knows it which means the Party knows it which means Dustin keeps Steve up to date on it. 

Max stops, her hand on the passenger door handle. She looks up at Steve, that grim determination back in her eyes. “No one goes to see him, Steve. I’m not going to just let him rot in there alone. He’s - he’s my brother and I’m not going to let that happen.”

Steve bobs his head in understanding. Which, he kind of does understand? Sort of. Having never had siblings of his own, Steve really can’t attest to sibling bonds, or whatever, but he feels like, even for the shit person Billy is, he probably still deserves to have someone sitting at his bedside hoping he wakes up.

They climb into the car and Steve gestures to the radio. “You can put on whatever you want.”

“Billy never lets me touch his radio,” Max says. Then she sets about tuning through every single station. 

There are around seven people Steve can think of off the top of his head that would probably be better suited to taking Max to visit Billy. He can also think of at least seven reasons why Max didn’t go to any of those people. 

Her own mom is in the middle of ugly divorce proceedings against Neil Hargrove. Apparently, Mrs. Mayfield wasn’t too keen about her husband being more interested in an insurance settlement against the mall corporation than in his own son being a living vegetable in hospital. The Mayfields are shacking up in this really sad, run down rental on the outskirts of Hawkins while Neil Hargrove does his damnedest to be an even bigger asshole than his son. 

Lucas’s mom took the entire Sinclair family on a mandatory family trip to visit their grandparents in Ohio for the rest of the summer. Which, like, her baby girl went missing for forty-eight hours only to be discovered in the rubble of an exploded mall alongside her brother. 

Mrs. Byers is in the midst of legally adopting El and putting her house up for sale. Not to mention keeping her own sons within arms reach for completely understandable mom reasons. 

Max doesn’t know Jonathan or Nancy well enough to bum a ride and even if she did, those two are constantly out of sight doing whatever it is that they do. Steve actively doesn’t think about it because he honestly just doesn’t want to know. 

Then, it’s not like Max knows Dustin’s mom, but even if she did, Dustin’s mom is in near hysterics about Dustin going MIA and almost being murdered by both Russians and the devastating mall explosion. 

Whittling the list down to Mrs. Wheeler - well, that’s just Bad News Bears over there. In some weird moment of openness, perhaps brought on by Billy being pretty much DOA at the hospital, Mrs. Wheeler had insanely confessed to almost having an affair with Billy? It’s pretty much the wildest thing about this whole shit show. 

And Steve probably wouldn’t know anything about it if Nancy hadn’t called him up sobbing about the whole thing. It was the first time they had really talked since the break up and that was weird in and of itself. But at the same time, Steve kind of got it. He had been with Nancy longer, had known her on again off again relationship with her mom, so yeah, it made sense she’d called him. 

He’d listen to her in complete shock because the whole thing was so bizarre. A) it was fucking gross that Mrs. Wheeler wanted to sleep with Billy. He was the same age as her daughter, even if he didn’t look it. So, yeah, straight up nasty. B) why she would confess when in all likelihood Billy would never wake up and be able to accuse her of it was a mystery. And C) now she was having this huge marital implosion with Mr. Wheeler. 

So, yeah, Max rolling up to Steve’s house to bum a ride, perfectly understandable in her present situation.

~*~*~*~*~

“His dad’s the worst,” Max confides as their sneakers squeak against the bright white linoleum of Hawkins General. They’re on the eighth floor, the one that only allows people to speak in whispers and look sad because pretty much everyone in this ward is counting down to their last breaths.

The nurse at reception knows Max by name and gives her this really sad smile that makes Steve want to take her aside and remind her that while Max is only in the eighth grade, she isn’t fucking dumb. When you look at someone like that, you are guaranteeing them that their shitheel brother is definitely not going to make it out of this hospital alive. 

“I mean,” Steve starts, voice canted to a quiet whisper, “isn’t everyone’s dad the worst? Isn’t that, like, a universal law or something?”

Max shoots Steve a look. Then she cracks a small smile. “Well, yeah, duh. But Neil’s worse. He -“ Her brows v-down and she presses her lips together. 

Steve knows that look. It’s a look that says, this isn’t my secret to tell and I’m not sure if I should, but I want to. Steve has seen that look on his own face too many times in the last year. He reaches out, squeezing Max’s shoulder in his hand. He bends down so their eye level and says, “Max, you can tell me. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but hey, seriously, who am I going to tell? You already know all of my friends.”

She breaks out that broken little smile again. “Maybe some other time.” She turns, and pushes open the door to Billy’s room. He’s got a room to himself, not because he’s got the insurance to cover it or anything, but because the doctors still don’t know what to make of Billy’s injuries, so they’d prefer he stay away from the other patients. 

Walking into Billy’s room, Steve gets the chills. Steve remembers when he was in sixth grade and he broke his arm on the soccer field. He’d been rushed to the hospital in the back of the coach’s van. He’d had to stay overnight because, well, because his parents were out of town and they couldn’t come pick him up. By the next morning, Steve’s entire room had been filled with flowers and get well cards. It had been ridiculous and awesome at the same time. 

Walking into Billy’s room, Steve has this unreal feeling that he’s walking into the morgue instead. There’s not a speck of color in the room, including Billy himself. Max catches Steve scanning the room and her shoulders hitch up defensively. “He would hate flowers anyway.”

Steve nods vigorously. “Yeah, of course.” 

Max cuts in front of him and sinks down into the uncomfortable plastic chair beside Billy’s bed. She puts her elbows on her knees and rests her chin in her hands. She stares moodily at Billy. 

Unsure what to do with himself, Steve wanders around the room, idly checking out the room. He wasn’t kidding about Billy’s lack of color. He’s paler than his summer in the sun as a lifeguard would suggest was possible. Even his wild, curly mullet lays limp and faded against the white hospital pillow. Billy’s got an IV in one hand, a pain drip too, and there's a heart monitoring thingy near the head of his bed. 

He turns back to Max. She looks - she looks sad and young and scared. Steve drags over the other shitty plastic chair and sits down next to her. “Chin up, Max, it’s not like things can get any worse.”

Max shoots him an absolutely scathing look.

~*~*~*~*~

Steve’s not really thinking this is going to turn into a thing. Really, sincerely, he’s not. He’s thinking it’s a once and done kind of a thing. He’s wrong, obviously. Because over the next week, Max shows up at his place on her skateboard at two o’clock like they’ve got a standing date for this shit.

When Saturday rolls around, Steve’s hoping he’ll get a reprieve. Oh how very foolish. Max’s staccato knock tears through the latest CURE music video on MTV. Steve groans, but pushes himself to his feet and goes to answer. 

“Come on,” Max says, already on her way to Steve’s car. 

“Hold it,” Steve calls after her. 

She freezes, shoulders up by her ears. “What?”

“We’re picking up Robin.”

Max turns around slowly. “Why?”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Because I said we are. So you’re riding in the back.”

Max makes a face but doesn’t complain. 

Robin is kicking her heels outside of Hawkins’ one and only apartment complex, popping her gum like the 80s cliche she is. Steve adores her. She jogs over when he pulls up, smiling wildly. 

“Hey, little red,” she greets Max, sliding into the passenger seat. “How’s your big bro doing?”

“Unconscious,” Max says sullenly. 

Robin shoots Steve a look. “Ignore her. She’s not great with new people.” Max crosses her arms over her chest and puffs out an annoyed breath. “Point and case.” 

“You mean case in point?” Robin asks with a smile. 

“Pretty sure it’s point and case,” Steve corrects. He doesn’t know how all these people go around mishearing all this shit. Like, is Steve the only one using his ears?

It’s a twenty minute drive to the hospital, filled with Robin trying earnestly to win Max over and Max staunchly refusing to acknowledge Robin’s existence. When they pull into the hospital car park, Max is out the door like a shot. Steve pats Robin’s shoulder reassuringly. “Give her a week, she’ll warm up to you.”

They find Max parked next to Billy’s hospital bed. Robin takes in his comatose state before tugging Steve out the door. “So, why am I here again?”

Steve smirks, then covertly points to the candy-striper at the end of the hallway, a very passable Molly Ringwald look alike. Robin gapes. “Holy shit, Steve!” She whirls around, clutching his t-shirt in her hands. “Holy shit! How can she be that hot?”

“Because she is,” Steve answers with a shrug. “Anyway, I figure you can work up the nerve and try something crazy like talking to her.” 

Robin languishes dramatically against him. “How do you even go about approaching a beauty like that?”

"Well," says Steve warming up to the subject, "I'll give you the same foolproof advice I gave Dustin. Chicks go crazy for you when you act like you don't care about them." 

"Chicks?" Robin clarifies. 

"Uh-huh." 

"And I'm asking you for advice after the completely scientific results of the You Suck board because?" 

It's clearly a rhetorical question. It's still insulting nonetheless. "Robin, you've got this all wrong. Scoops Ahoy was one of the circles of hell, and you can't exactly act uninterested in someone when your job is to literally act like taking their ice cream order is the most interesting thing in the world. But this," Steve makes jazz hands at the hospital ward around them, "this is the real world. And I slay in the real world." 

To prove his point, Steve whirls around and heads backwards down the hall towards the candy-striper. He shoots finger guns and wiggles his eyebrows seductively at Robin. Then he turns around, swoops in toward the fake Molly Ringwald and gives his patent grin. 

"Hey, I'm Steve." 

Tracey, according to her name tag, blushes, a pleased smile gracing her pink lips. "Hi. We, uh, actually had homeroom together?" 

"Awesome," Steve enthuses. "I honestly sucked at school so I tried to pay the least amount of attention possible."

Tracey giggles. "So, you're here to see Billy, right? I mean, I've seen you pretty much everyday this week with his kid sister. Maxine, right?" 

"Max," he corrects offhand. "And yeah. She wants to see him and he was on the basketball team with me so I offered to help out." 

Tracey's blush brightens. "That's so sweet of you." 

And this is what it is supposed to be like. Steve is not shit with girls. He has never been shit with girls. Learning not to be an asshole could not have changed that or else it really does mean that nice guys finish last. 

"What can I say, I'm a sweet guy," Steve flirts. Then he smoothly slides his arm around Tracey's shoulders and guides her toward Robin whose look of disbelief is equal parts flattering and full on offensive. "Here let me introduce you to my good friend Robin."

"H-hi," Robin stutters out. 

Tracey giggles at this too. With an exaggerated wink to Robin, Steve slides into Billy's room. Which is when he hears this really alarming, soft sound.

Steve edges the door closed, shutting out the voices of Robin and Tracey getting acquainted. "Max?" Steve crouches down in front of her chair. 

Max has her face buried in her hands and although she's trying really hard not to be heard, it's painfully obvious she's crying. There was a point in Steve's life, namely last year, where anyone crying would have freaked Steve out. But now, Steve grabs the box of tissue off of the table stand next to Billy's bed. He pulls out some tissues and offers them to Max. 

She grabs them and smashes them gracelessly against her face. Instead of stemming her tears, the tissues seem to make her cry harder. 

"Max," Steve tries to soothe, "I don't know what's wrong, but I promise to try to beat it up with my nail bat."

This catches a laugh out of Max, who lifts her red rimmed eyes to him. She rubs aggressively at her cheeks, then spikes the tissues spitefully into the trash can. "He's just, he's never going to wake up, is he?" she asks, breathing deep to get through the sentence without crying again. When she gestures to the bed, she refuses to look at its occupant.

"Hey, we don't know that, Max." Steve takes the seat next to her and squeezes her shoulder. "I mean, Will survived in a desolate Upside Down wasteland and getting possessed. There's no reason for Billy not to make it too. And out of the pair of them, Billy is by far more stubborn, so I'm sure he has no intention of giving into death before he gets the chance to buy a brand new Camaro." 

His attempt at humor falls flat. Max shakes her head, her red hair flying. “This - this is different though. That thing, the Mindflayer, it was, like, eating him, from the inside out. You saw what it did to El. It almost destroyed her, just to get it out of her leg. And now she can’t -“ Max presses her lips together as if even saying the words out loud would be a betrayal to El and their friendship. 

Steve scrubs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I, uh, heard about that. How things aren’t so mind-controlly right now.” 

Max scrunches in tighter on herself. “The point is, Steve, that we don’t know what is going to happen to Billy and - and the thing is, no one really cares either!” 

This weird weight of guilt drops itself down on Steve’s shoulders. He doesn’t particularly think he should have to be broken up about Billy, not that anyone deserves to die or have something horrible happen to them. But it’s definitely a lot harder to empathize with a guy who tried to bash your head in with everything but the kitchen sink, which honestly, if Billy could have lifted up the sink, Steve is certain Billy would have chucked it at him too. 

But at the same time, Steve scans a slow look around Billy’s desolate hospital room. He’s never seen anything quite so achingly lonely, except for maybe his own house during the long stretches when his parents are away and even Steve can’t bring himself to roam its floors for too long. 

“Max, come on,” Steve tries to rally her. “You care. I mean, hell, you’re here every day. And I’m sure, like, Billy’s friends care. You know, the guys on the basketball team.” 

“I’m not stupid, Steve, and I live with Billy. He’s an asshole. He doesn’t have friends here.” She glares at Steve for even trying to slip her the lie. “He had friends in California because he grew up there and stuff, but here -“ she breaks off with a shrug. 

Which, okay, let's not go throwing any stones. It’s not exactly like Steve’s friend pool is that deep either. Up until Scoops, Steve was pretty much riding by on school friends, the kind of people you choose to sit by at lunch, but when the weekend comes you aren’t making plans to hang out. And really, Robin doesn’t equal a bevy of friends either. So, yeah, Steve can kind of feel for douchebag Billy on that front. 

“Okay, well, he’s had girlfriends,” Steve points out, which is more than he can say for himself for the last six months. 

Max’s huffs in disgust. “He sleeps with girls and never acknowledges them again. That sure as shit isn’t relationship sustaining.”

“Okay, okay!” Steve holds up his hands. “I’m digging myself a hole here, I can see that. But, really, Max, you’ve got to believe me, it matters what happens to Billy. I’d be pretty, you know, bummed out if he died.” 

Max winces away from the word and Steve feels like an idiot. He wants to just shove himself out of this chair and make a break for it out of the room, but it’s not like he’s going to leave Max here to deal with this crap herself. She rests her cheek on her knees before pinning Steve with her eyes. “Do you mean that?”

“What? That’d it’d be upsetting? Yeah, of course I mean that.” 

“Then make me a promise.” 

Steve knows whatever she asks is going to be something he doesn’t want to agree to. But he also knows that whatever she asks he’s going to say yes to. “Hit me with it, Pippi.” 

“My mom is taking me to Fort Wayne for the week. She wants to, like, talk to my Aunt Marie about going through with the divorce, or something.”

Steve knows what’s coming, it’s got him in its sights like a steam roller and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

Her eyes never leave his. “Promise me that you’ll come and see Billy while I’m away.” 

“Okay,” Steve agrees tentatively. He can swing that. Yeah, it’ll be weird showing up without Max, but, like, he can stop by one or twice over the next week. No big. 

“Every day.” 

He was afraid of that. “Okay,” he agrees, “I promise, Max.” 

She stares him down for a few seconds longer, waiting to see if he’ll back out. When it becomes apparent that Steve is going to stick to his word, Max flings herself out of her chair and wraps her arms octopus style around Steve. “Thanks,” she says, her cheek smashed against his.

Steve hugs her back gently. “Sure thing, kid.”

~*~*~*~*~

The first two days aren’t so bad. Robin comes with him so she can chat up Tracey by the vending machines while Tracey’s on break. They flirt in this ridiculous pattern of compliments and cute teasing. Steve’s not entirely sure that he buys that this will somehow end up with Robin and Tracey kissing, but Robin assures him this is a tried and true method.

This does, however, still leave Steve chilling alone in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to Billy’s bedside, more or less twiddling his thumbs for twenty minutes before he feels like he’s fulfilled his promise and he can leave. So by Wednesday, Steve’s brought a book with him. 

Yeah, he knows that everyone thinks he’s dumb as a rock, but that’s not entirely true. Not being good at school doesn’t mean he’s stupid. He’s just not good at the stuff they test you on. Like five paragraph essays or the meaning of the white whale in Moby Dick or whatever the fuck is going on in Chemistry. But simple stuff, like basic algebra, he’s got that. And reading for fun, he can do that too. 

So Steve’s got Until Proven Guilty cracked open and he’s weaving his way through how Detective J.P. Beaumont is going to solve the murder of a little girl. It’s pretty good stuff too. He’s kind of into mysteries since his life became one about a year ago. He’s right at a good part, wholly invested, when someone knocks on the door and nearly scares the shit out of him. Steve’s a lot more jumpy now that his life has become a horror movie.

“Oh, sorry,” Nurse Amanda says with an apologetic smile. She’s the main nurse who checks in on Billy throughout the day so she’s gotten more than used to seeing Max and Steve during visiting hours. “You two doing alright?”

Steve takes a glance at Billy. He’s unconscious and breathing evenly, like always. His hair’s getting a little too long, starting to curl down past his collar bone, and there’s definite sad-teenage boy stubble all across his jaw. Steve shrugs. “Think we’re good, Nurse Amanda.” 

She nods. “Do you,” she pauses, hesitates really, and Steve’s suddenly nervous about what she’s going to ask. Do you know he’s never going to wake up? Do you know he’s actually brain dead? Do you know what happened to him?

But she doesn’t ask any of that. She asks something much worse. “I hate to ask you this, Steve, but we’re not really sure who to ask. We haven’t seen his dad in a while, and, well, the hospital is wondering, do you know when he’ll be back again? There’s some paperwork to go over and decisions to be made and well.” She holds her hands out apologetically. 

“Oh, ah, yeah, no, I totally hear you. It’s, uhm, just, well - ” Steve listens to himself fumble and feels like a complete idiot. But really, you start visiting a guy randomly at the hospital and the next thing you know, people think you actually know anything about their life? “Well, I mean, not to be weird, but like, his step-mom and dad are going through a divorce and, like, I know his little sister and step-mom are out of town right now, so maybe?” He ends on a shrug. 

Nurse Amanda is already nodding understandingly. “Oh yes, of course. You know, it happens more than you’d think, something serious happens to a child and the family just falls apart. Okay, well,” she starts to edge out of the room, “we’ll just keep ringing his line and hope he has a chance to get back to us.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve says, nodding, not knowing why he’s nodding, feeling like even more of an idiot for nodding. But a moment later she’s out the door and Steve slumps tiredly against the plastic chair. “Dude,’ he says to Billy’s prone form. “You’ve got to wake up. I can’t keep doing these awkward conversations. First with your sister, now with your nurse. You’re supposed to be dealing with this heavy shit, not me.” 

Billy, unsurprisingly, provides absolutely no insight into the situation. 

“Okay,” Steve says to Billy’s slack face, “Let’s get back at it and this time, I’m going to take you along on the adventure, Billy Boy. I’m just gonna catch you up on our good old Detective and then we’ll see this thing through to the end and then your sister will be back and I’ll just draw a hard line in the sand; she needs to find someone else to drive her to the hospital.”

~*~*~*~*~

On Wednesday, when Steve calls up Robin to see if she is ready for their daily trip to the hospital, she betrays him. “Actually,” Robin says, her voice gleeful, “I’m going to the movies with Tracey.”

Steve’s shoulders slump. He’s sitting on top of the marble kitchen countertop, yellow telephone cord wrapped around one wrist, phone in his other hand. There’s no one home, per usual, so there’s no one to see Steve’s disappointment. “How can you do this to me?” 

“Life’s tough, Stevie. But, hey, I’ll come over later and we can watch Die Hard.” 

Steve grimaces. Robin knows him too well. “Fine, but this is going to be a total drag without you..”

“Love you!” Robin smacks a kiss into the phone and hangs up. 

Steve stares at the phone in his hand, dejected. He doesn’t want to go to the hospital alone. It’ll be weird. He can’t just roll in to see Billy by himself. He doesn’t even like the guy. 

But he’s not going to break his promise to Max, because that’s just not the kind of guy Steve wants to be. So he calls up Dustin. 

The first five minutes of their conversation are all Dustin babbling on about the latest developments in his budding romance with the Camp Know Where girl. Steve provides as much legitimate interest as he can, but seeing as his own dating life has been nonexistent since Nancy, he’s starting to feel a little jealous of the twelve year old and that’s really just not sitting right with Steve. 

“But, why did you really call, Steve? Hm?” Dustin presses, on an out rush of breath after finishing another reminder of Suzie’s radiant beauty. 

“I promised Max I’d go keep her brother company at the hospital. But I’m not going alone, so you cool to come with me?” Steve asks with his best false enthusiasm. 

“Billy?” Dustin shrieks into the phone. “You’re going to visit Billy at the hospital? Dude! Do we even like Billy?”

“We don’t,” Steve allows, “but we do like Max.”

“He tried to kill you! And Lucas!” 

“Which, shockingly, I haven’t forgotten. But again, I promised Max, so . . .”

On the other end of the line, Steve hears Dustin mumbling angrily to himself. Steve doesn’t attempt to make sense of the syllables. Finally, Dustin huffs a sigh. “I mean - I guess he saved El from the Mindflayer.” 

“True,” Steve says, perking up. “And - this time when he was going around trying to kill people, he was legitimately possessed by an evil entity.”

More murmuring follows this and Steve starts to worry that Dustin is going to talk himself out of going with Steve. But his worries are unfounded. “Fine. But you have to agree to come to dinner on Friday.”

“You don’t have to threaten me, Dustin,” Steve says rolling his eyes. “If you want me over, just call and ask. You know my social calendar is glaringly empty.” 

“Hey,” Dustin admonishes Steve for his self-pity. “What time are you picking me up?”

“Twenty minutes. Be there or be square, shithead.” Steve hangs up before Dustin can change his mind.

~*~*~*~*~

Dustin spends their ride to the hospital chattering away about the outrageous injustice of not being allowed to hang out with any of his friends. Steve keeps side-eyeing him.

“But, I mean, Dustin. The six of you have been in really fucked up life and death situations three times in the last two years. You think, maybe, your parents have a reason to think keeping you separate might be warranted?”

“Steve!” Dustin cries out, clearly stung. 

“Hey!” Steve lifts one hand off the steering wheel, pleading innocence, “I’m not saying I agree, but yeah, I can see where your mom is coming from.”

Dustin frowns at this. “But for the other ten years nothing bad ever happened.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “In the last two years, Will was presumed dead, Barbara went missing and was proclaimed dead, the government started poking around your houses, Will came back from the dead, there was an unexplained shootout at our school, you guys got brought home from there by the Sheriff, the hospital Will was being treated at had a massacre that killed Mrs. Byers’ boyfriend, I got my face bashed in, there was an underground implosion, you got dropped off by the Sheriff again, you went missing for 48 hours, half the town got killed in a freak mall accident, you were at that mall, the Sheriff couldn’t drive you home because - “

But no one’s really talked about what happened to Hopper and Steve finds that he can’t do it either. Next to him, Dustin has fallen silent. Steve feels a bit like an asshole for the lecture, but at the same time, he figures this is what being somebody’s older brother would be like too. Having to tell your shit head little brother that even though you’re on his side, he’s still wrong. 

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” Dustin agrees as they are pulling into the hospital. “Did you know - did you know the Byers are thinking of moving?”

Steve’s schools his face into surprise. Steve doesn't know if it’s supposed to be a secret or not and seeing as he only knows because Nancy also shared that during the call of sobbing due to Mrs. Wheeler, he figures he should pretend to know nothing. “No, I didn’t, but I guess I’m not surprised either? After all the shit that’s happened to them here, why would they want to stay?”

Dustin pulls in on himself. “It wouldn’t be the same, though, if Will left. I mean, the Party would be breaking up.”  
Steve aims them into an open parking space and turns the car off. He twists in his seat to face Dustin. “Buddy, I know. And that would really suck. But, to be honest, stuff changes as you get older, and after the stuff Hawkins has gone through, I think a lot of things are going to be changing.”

Dustin in no way looks comforted. “You are just seriously not fun today, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth lifts in a tired smirk. “Preaching to the choir.”

~*~*~*~*~

Steve waves to the nurse on duty as he heads to Billy’s room. He’s on a first name basis with everyone in this ward at this point. Dustin follows after, practically on tiptoe, like he’s waiting for someone to throw him out. In Billy’s room, everything is the same as always, plain and dreary.

Dustin must notice it too, because he makes a soft whistle. “Guess he’s not that popular, huh?”

Steve shrugs. He takes his usual seat, then watches as Dustin prowls around the room, poking at and investigating everything. When he reaches the heart monitor, Steve is halfway out of his chair to stop him.

“Dustin!” he warns. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Dustin backs up, but keeps his face alarmingly close to the monitor screen. “I’ve just never seen one of these when it was, like, making sure someone is alive. Because, you know,” he juts his thumb back at Billy, “he really doesn’t look that alive.”

“Jesus, Dustin!” Steve can’t help but laugh. 

Dustin gives him that ridiculous gap toothed smile. “Just telling it like it is.” 

“Get over here before you trip over a wire and unplug something,” Steve says. 

Dustin makes a face, but he does come and sit next to Steve. “So what do you do, just like, watch him sleep? For hours? That’s creepy.”

“What? No!” Steve feels exasperated and fond at the same time, another thing he assumes goes hand in hand with having a sibling. “I read, and usually, Robin is here and we hang out. I stay for an hour and then I leave.” 

“And the whole time, Billy just sleeps?”

“Well, yeah, he’s in a coma.” 

Dustin nods sagely. Then he’s up again, walking right up to Billy’s hospital bed and staring straight down into his slack face. “He looks like less of an asshole unconscious. You know, because normally he looks like he’s bored out of his mind or waiting to kill someone. And really, those aren’t the comforting expressions you expect to see on your friend’s step-brother’s face.” 

“Well, I’m pretty sure no one is waiting around to give Billy a brother of the year award or, like, a shining personality prize.” 

Dustin laughs his goofy little kid laugh. “Yeah, right.” He bends even further over Billy. “Whoa. Did you know Billy has freckles? That’s crazy, right? Like finding out Darth Vader was a redhead as a kid or something?” 

Steve feels his face scrunch up and there’s this weird twisty feeling in his stomach, like when he would get called on in class and knew whatever answer he gave would make him sound dumb. 

Freckles. Damn. That’s like humanizing. And even with deciding not to actively hate Billy, Steve still finds it hard to picture him as a real person with real feelings and fears and, apparently, freckles. 

“They took his earring off?” Dustin looks back at Steve. “He’s totally going to murder the hospital staff if they lost it.”

“Dustin, man, just like, sit back down or something. Stop creeping on Billy,” Steve says desperately. There are too many tiny revelations happening right now and they are making Steve have complicated feelings and he just doesn’t want to deal with that, so it would be really great if Dustin could stop being Dustin for two seconds. 

Dustin ignores him, poking Billy in the cheek. “Yep, he’s really unconscious.” 

“Dustin!” Steve says sharply. 

“What?” Dustin complains. “I thought we hated Billy.”

Steve runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Okay, well, we don’t. We’re more like, neutral with him, okay? Because he was kind of being a good person or whatever when he tried to stop the Mindflayer. So we aren’t going to poke at him like he’s a science specimen, okay?”

Dustin sighs, aggrieved. “Fine.” He drags his feet as he comes back to his chair. “Hey! Does this floor have a vending machine?” 

“Yeah, at the end of the hall,” Steve says warily. Dustin’s out the door like a shot, one hand shoved in his back pocket to drag out his change. 

Steve slumps back in his chair. Maybe bringing Dustin had been a bad idea. The kid has too much energy for a space this small. Steve looks over at Billy. “Sorry he poked you.” 

Billy is unmoved by this apology, obviously. 

And, well, since it’s kind of been eating at him for a few days now, Steve decides to offer another apology. Of types. 

He clears his throat. “Also, ah, I’m sorry for being completely onboard, not a single second of hesitation, with hitting you with my car. Like, with Nancy shooting at your Camaro and you, possessed you, nailing the gas towards a car full of people I care about, I mean, obviously I was going to hit you with my car. Which, granted, I mean, you did actively try to kill me in the Byers kitchen and I’m pretty sure you would have fucked Lucas up if I hadn’t stopped you, so really, I can’t be blamed entirely for thinking even regular you would be more than willing to kill us that night, so it was kill or be killed. Also, I had kind of been drugged and beaten almost to death that night, so there’s also that and -“

Billy groans. A pain filled, guttural sound that makes Steve jump in surprise. 

“Billy?” Steve asks, voice hushed in disbelief. 

Billy groans again, louder this time, and it ends on something close to a sob. 

Steve clatters out of his chair, hands spread wide, unsure what to do. “Billy? Billy can you hear me?” He throws himself halfway out the door. “Nurse? Nurse!”

On the bed, Billy twists in the sheets and his face is shining, suddenly covered in sweat. He’s groaning gibberish, hands clenched in fists so tight his veins stick out. 

“Help!” Steve shouts out the door, then rushes to Billy’s side, eyes jumping over the monitors and the IVs, and not having a clue what to do. “You’re - you’re okay. You’re in the hospital -“

“It - hurts,” Billy grinds out between grit teeth. His eyes flash open, dilated as hell, lined with angry red veins. 

“Okay, okay. They’ll, uh, give you medicine.” Steve tries to sound reassuring, but no one’s coming and he doesn’t know what to do. 

“St- Holy shit!” A litter of chips and candy hit the floor as Dustin appears in the doorway. “Is he awake?”

“Get a doctor!” Steve shouts. 

Dustin jolts back out the door. 

“Fuck,” Billy whines, voice pinched with anguish. He starts to cry. 

It’s the worst thing Steve has ever seen. And suddenly, his hand is stroking through Billy’s chaotic curls. “Dude, yeah, I know. You got all slashed up, but you’re going to be fine, okay. It’s going to be all good. Dustin’s getting a doctor, they’re going to give you the good drugs, and you’ll be fine. Promise.” 

“Please,” Billy pleads, eyes clamped shut again. “Please, make it stop.”

Steve’s nodding along desperately. “It will, it will. We just got to get you a doctor and it’s going to be fine.” He keeps stroking Billy’s hair, his thumb rubbing along Billy’s hairline. 

He remembers when he got the flu, when he was still dating Nancy, and how she’d rubbed his back as he puked into the toilet. He had been feeling absolutely horrible, but her touch had made it seem bearable. Steve doesn’t figure it’s anything close to what’s going on with Billy, but he doesn’t know what else to do. 

“Please,” Billy cries again. He’s left hand reaches out and clamps onto Steve’s wrist, his left hand is braced on the side of Billy’s bed. “Please.” 

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Steve promises. He bends down, bringing himself level with Billy. He twists his hand around until he can grasp Billy’s hand in his. Billy’s grip is as painfully tight as Steve remembers from the basketball court. 

Billy’s head thrashes to the right, his eyes snapping open. He stares at Steve without comprehension. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, and this close, yeah, Billy does have freckles. They are sprinkled across his nose and over the very tops of his cheeks. That weird feeling is back in Steve’s stomach and he has to fight himself not to tear himself away from Billy. Because something feels like it’s shifting right now and it doesn’t feel safe, it feels really dangerous. 

And then someone is pulling him away by the shoulders and a swarm of doctors swallow Billy up from view as Steve is hustled out of the room. 

Dustin latches onto his arm and drags him down the hall a little to a set of chairs. He forcibly pushes Steve into one and hands him an apple juice box. “Drink this,” he instructs. 

Steve does without complaint. His adrenaline is pumping and his heart is racing in his chest. He keeps looking back at Billy’s room where the doctors and nurses are speaking in sharp staccatos. 

When the juice box is empty, Dustin shoves a candy bar into his hand. “For the shock,” he explains. He watches Steve eat the whole thing before the tension in his shoulders relaxes. “So, what happened?”

Steve shakes his head. “He just - he woke up?”

Dustin nods. He sits down next to Steve and offers him his hand. Steve holds on and waits to find out what the hell is going on with Billy. 

It’s Nurse Amanda who eventually comes to talk to them. Her pretty mouth is pinched into a concerned bow. “Billy’s alright now,” she says, her voice that cool calm of someone used to talking people down from panic. “We had to sedate him, but the good news is he came out of the coma himself. What we need to do now is get in contact with his father.” She looks hopefully between the two of them. 

Dustin looks eagerly back at her. “Do you want us to make the phone call?”

“We don’t know his number,” Steve hisses at him. 

“Well, I mean, I know Max’s home number.” He shrugs. 

Nurse Amanda smiles sweetly. “That’s alright, we already have Mr. Hargrove’s home and work number. The only issue is we are having trouble reaching him.”

Steve shifts uneasily in his chair. He has heard that phrase throughout his life. Getting sick at school, the stupid broken arm, his first car crash. No one could ever reach his parents either. “Is there anything we can do? he offers. 

“Well,” Nurse Amanda stretches the word as if she’s thinking things over. “It would be best if there was someone with Billy tonight. It would be nice if there was someone he knows with him so that if he wakes up we can check that he’s remembering things correctly.” 

Steve and Dustin exchange looks. “We, uh, aren’t exactly close friends,” Steve explains awkwardly. 

There’s skepticism in Nurse Amanda’s expression as she glances from Billy’s hospital room and back at Steve. Which, just, hell. Steve already knows he’s going to do it. He’s going to do it because Max would beg him to if he told her. And because he knows what it’s like spending the night abandoned. 

“Do I need to bring a sleeping bag from home?” 

Nurse Amanda beams. “No need, we will give you a rollaway cot, sheets, and a pillow.” She pats his knee. “You’re doing a very kind thing.”

As she walks away, Steve sighs. “Yeah, and Billy wouldn’t thank me for it if he knew.”

“Nope, I don’t think he would,” Dustin agrees.

~*~*~*~*~

As he’s packing his backpack for his overnight at the hospital, Steve winds his way to the kitchen phone and dials up Max in Fort Wayne. He’s not sure what contacts the hospital has for Billy, but somehow, he doubts Susan and Max are on that very short list.

Steve stares into his fridge as the phone rings. They’ve got a helper, Angela, who comes in every day to keep it stocked, cook random meals for Steve to eat, and keep the house dust free. But, because Angela is actually an angel, she also does things like order take out and leave it in the fridge for Steve. Today, there’s Chinese take-out in white folded boxes. 

Steve fishes these out and shoves a set of his mother’s fancy chopsticks into the sweet and sour chicken. He prefers it cold. He’s enjoying the tangy orange taste when a familiar voice answers the phone. 

“I’ve got it!” Max shouts. There’s a beat where there is murmuring in the background. “Because I’m expecting a call, Mom!”

Steve laughs. “Hey, Max.”

“Jesus! Finally!” she says, directing this shout at him. 

“Hey! Everything’s been smooth sailing, I thought I was only supposed to call if something changed,” Steve defends. He hops up onto the counter, his carton of sweet and sour between his legs. 

“So, what changed?” Max demands.

“Billy woke -“

“Mom!” Max screams. Steve wrenches the phone away from his ear to avoid going deaf. “Billy woke up!”

There’s the sound of voices and suddenly Susan’s voice joins her daughter’s. “Billy woke up?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says awkwardly, having never spoken to Max’s mom before. “I’m, uh, Steve Harrington? I played basketball with Billy?”

“Oh, of course,” Susan says as if she has any idea who he is. 

“Is he awake now?” Max asks. 

“Well, he was in a lot of pain, so they sedated him. They’re confident he’ll wake up again though. They, uh, asked me to stay the night at the hospital, actually, in case he does.” It’s super weird telling this to Susan, who has to know it should be her husband calling, not a ‘friend’ of Billy’s.

“Thank you, that’s very gracious,” Susan says. “I know Billy would really appreciate it. His father, Neil, well -“

Max interrupts impatiently, “Mom! We aren’t talking about Neil while we’re here, remember? That’s the deal you made with Aunt Marie.” 

“Right, well,” Steve says, desperate to get off the phone. “I’ll call in the morning and let you know how things went.”

“Thank you very much, Steve,” Susan says politely. 

“Thanks, Steve! But - like, Mom, you can get off the phone now, okay?” There’s a click and then a short pause before Max keeps talking, “So, like plans changed because Mom had this epic break down when we got here and Aunt Marie was like what the hell are you doing with a guy who doesn’t even go to see his son at the hospital? And so, yeah, we aren’t coming home for another week. Aunt Marie mandated a two week stay-away from Neil the Douchebag.” 

“Right, of course.” Steve’s shoulders slump, he knows what’s coming next.

“But, you gotta keep visiting Billy, okay? Because I know he sucks but he’s still a person and he’s still my brother and -“

“Hey, Max, chill out, okay? I promised I would visit him and that isn’t going to change if you’re gone for longer, okay?” Steve promises. 

Max takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Steve, really.”

“Anytime, Pippi.”

~*~*~*~*~

Backpack over his shoulder, Steve feels oddly like a burglar as he exits the elevator and heads to the Nurse’s Station. A nurse he doesn’t know is on duty, because visiting hours end at five and right now it’s eight at night. The nurse eyes him over thoroughly before frowning deeply at him.

Steve tries his most winning smile, the smile that always convinced fathers that Steve was just the kind of boy they would want their daughters going out with, if their daughters had to be going out with anyone. The nurse is unimpressed. “Are you the Harrington kid?”

Steve nods. “That’s me, Steve Harrington. I’m, uh -“

“They already wheeled your cot in. Try not to make any problems for me? I don’t stand for this kind of stuff. No need for visitors at night. Any reason that boy wakes up, can’t imagine what you’ll do for him that a nurse or doctor couldn’t.” She glares at him. 

Steve salutes her, feels like an idiot, and makes a break for it to Billy’s room. Inside, the lights are off and Billy is like an eerie ghost, a white sheet in the darkness. Steve flicks on the light to the bathroom connected to Billy’s room. It lets him see the cot tucked up close to Billy’s bed. 

Steve drops his backpack on the plastic chair now pressed back by the door. He rustles through it, drags out Until Proven Guilty and thumbs to the page he was on. He glances over at Billy, seemingly sleeping peacefully. “So,” he says, clearing his throat, “Where were we?” 

At some point, Steve must fall asleep, because he wakes up with an absolutely fierce pain in his neck. He swears as he tries to straighten himself out, but ends up just sort of pinching his ear towards his shoulder and trying to ignore the kinked muscle. 

He squints in the dark, making out the shape of Billy in the bed across from him. The cot really is pushed up close to the bed and Steve isn’t set on sleeping that close to another guy who once smashed a plate over his head. Standing up, Until Proven Guilty drops off his lap and hits the floor. Steve groans and he bends to retrieve it. 

And for a second, it kind of sounds like he’s in stereo. Steve looks up. The Billy shape in the bed is moving slightly. Or at least, his head is shifting from side to side. Steve forgets about the kink in his neck and grabs the cot, tugging it as far over toward the plastic chairs as he can, then he climbs over the cot and half falls against Billy’s bed. 

Billy groans painfully, head moving restlessly against his pillow. Even in the dim light, Steve can see that Billy’s curls are damp from sweat and his eyes are scrunched in pain. “Hey, Billy, you awake, man?” He whispers. 

Steve isn’t sure if he should be whispering or shouting? Should he whisper in case Billy is still sleeping? Should he shout because they want Billy to wake up? 

“Mom?” Billy’s voice is pleading and scared and it makes Steve feel the same way. 

Steve kicks the cot to avoid tripping over it again and takes off running for the nurses station. A new nurse is perched there, an older woman with faded red hair and cat glasses circa the 1950s. But her name is Linda and she comes readily with Steve back to Billy’s room. 

Billy’s putting up a good struggle against his sheets, his eyes open but glazed looking. The nurse snaps on the light and in the sudden illumination, Billy’s cheeks are fire engine red, like he’s got a fever. “I’ll get the doctor,” she tells Steve, laying a reassuring hand on his arm. 

Steve nods to show he’s heard her, then he jams himself up by Billy between the cot and bed. “Hey? You with me, Billy?” Steve asks. 

Billy swerves to look at him, blinking his huge doe eyes at Steve. And it’s an absolutely crazy time to be thinking that Billy has prettier lashes than any girl Steve has ever seen but, yep, that’s what he’s thinking. “Harrington?” Billy questions, completely dazed.

“Hey, man.” Steve grins goofily at him, because this is good news. Billy is awake, he recognizes Steve, and while he looks like hell, at least he isn’t crying out in agony. “Shit, you had some people really worried.”

Billy jerks his head around again, blearily staring at the world around him like nothing makes sense. Which Steve can totally understand. He remembers that feeling when he woke up in the back of Billy’s Camaro with a thirteen year old driving and a bunch of band-aids stuck to his face in places he probably needed stitches. 

“Max? Max!” Billy’s arms reach out, uncoordinated as hell, and kind of making grabbing motions at the air in front of him.

“Uh, Billy? Max isn’t here right now. Do you, do you see her in here?” Steve needs the doctor to get here like now because Steve doesn’t know what to do with someone having hallucinations about a step-sibling they proclaim to hate. 

Billy whips his head around again, features creased in a kind of crazed anger, and he seizes onto Steve’s forearms with enough strength to leave bruises. “Where is Max? Max!” He practically howls her name. 

“Billy, man, she’s fine, I promise,” Steve assuages. He presses his palms into Billy’s shoulders and tries to leverage him back to resting against the bed. Oddly, Billy goes with the motion, but he keeps his hands clamped to Steve’s arms. 

“I don’t - I didn’t mean to, Steve. I didn’t. I couldn’t stop it. I tried. It was everywhere. It was so big. It was a shadow. It -“ Billy’s talking a mile a minute, each word blurring into the next. 

And probably none of it would make sense if Max hadn’t filled Steve in on the Billy vs Sauna scene during one of their days at the hospital together. She’d been crying then and he figures she would be crying now too, hearing how broken Billy sounds. And it’s definitely wrenching even Steve’s rather withered heart strings. Billy sounds like a little kid lost and desperate not to be blamed for something that he knew he shouldn’t have started but that quickly got out of control. 

“I know, I know you didn’t,” Steve assures him, nodding as he speaks. “Max knows too.” 

“You have to believe me, please.” Billy holds on desperately, kind of shaking Steve’s arms. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want it. Believe me, please.” 

Steve leans in close to Billy, trying to match their eyes. “I do. I promise I believe you, Billy. Max does too. She knows it’s not your fault. She doesn’t think that.” 

“Then why isn’t she here?” Billy asks. He’s got tears leaking down his cheeks and his pupils are blown wide. Steve can’t imagine how much of Billy is really aware of what’s going on right now versus how much of him is still trapped in a half dreaming state. 

“She’s in Fort Wayne, with her mom. She’s okay, she’ll be back soon. She wanted to be here but couldn’t so she sent me instead.” 

It takes Billy a minute to process this and when he does, he goes limp, his body sinking into the mattress and his hands finally releasing Steve. He looks up at the ceiling which is worrisome to Steve. The fluorescents overhead are blinding. 

“Uh, hey, Billy?” Steve tries to recall his attention. 

Billy’s head turns listlessly towards Steve, his energy apparently spent on getting out his most desperate concerns. 

“So, you’re in the hospital, you’re okay, the doctors are coming, and you’ve been in, like, a coma for a couple weeks now.” Steve has watched a few soap operas in his day. He’s pretty sure real life is meant to be more dramatic than this. 

Billy blinks bayfully at him. “Is it gone? The shadow?”

Steve nods slowly. “Yeah, Billy, it’s gone.” 

Billy closes his eyes. “I’m really tired, Harrington.”

“Then sleep,” Steve says. “I’ll be here.” 

When the doctors arrive, Billy is sleeping fitfully. The first thing the nurses do is gently restrain Billy by the wrists and ankles. They hold him in place while the doctors shift around him, checking his injuries, and speaking doctor language that Steve doesn’t have a chance in hell of understanding.. 

“So, should I, like, stay or go or?” Steve inches his way towards the door, feeling incredibly uncertain. 

“The date,” one of the doctors is saying, pointing a penlight into Billy’s eyes. “Can you tell me the date, Billy?” 

Billy is blinking angrily into the light. “Some fucking day in July? I don’t know. Shit, get that out of my eyes.” Billy makes an aborted move to slap the pen out of his face, but his wrist is still restrained by a nurse. 

“The year, Billy? Can you tell me the year?” The doctor continues to peer into Billy’s eyes. 

No one is paying the least bit of attention to Steve as he works on inching his way toward the door without bumping into anyone. “1985. Fuck! Can you turn it off?” 

The doctor snaps the penlight off and leans back from Billy. He watches him for a moment, tapping the penlight against his bottom lip. Abruptly, he turns it on and shines it directly in Steve’s face. “Whose he?”

“A dickwad on the basketball team.” Billy pinches his eyes closed. “Can everyone get the fuck off me now? I’m fine, right?”

In Steve’s estimation he certainly seems so. He’s way more coherent than he had been when he first woke up and maybe the key to that is helping Billy achieve his normal level of horrendously pissed off. It wouldn’t have occurred to Steve as a method to take since Steve really feels he’s grown as a person since the whole smearing Nancy’s name on the theater marquee. 

The nurses look to the head doctor for confirmation. He nods. They let go of Billy who just sinks bonelessly into the hospital bed. “Can everyone get the fuck out? I’m tired.”

“Billy, do you remember what happened to you? How you got here?” the doctor asks. He motions to the nurse who hands him Billy’s clipboard of medical information. 

“I just told you. I was in my car, something ran across the road. I must have crashed - shit!” Billy sits up, but falls back in apparent pain. “Steve! Steve, what happened to my car?” Billy cranes his neck to try and see around everyone else in the room. 

“Uh - no, yeah, your car is fine, Billy. Good as new. Super good. All good!” Steve, for some idiotic reason he cannot explain, flips two thumbs up. 

Billy groans and covers his face with both hands. “You are the worst fucking liar. My car is completely totaled.” 

“Billy,” the doctor interrupts, he throws an absolutely glacial look in Steve’s direction and jerks his head. 

It’s obvious he wants Steve to leave, but Steve’s got weird vibes. The kind of vibes you get after living in Hawkins long enough to know that it is filled with people pretending to be normal when in fact they are secret government officials who would kill you as soon as look at you. So Steve follows Billy’s advice, and plants his feet. 

“Billy,” the doctor continues. “We found you on July fourth, in Starcourt Mall, nearly dead, and with -“

“Hey, hey, hey!” Steve shouts. He shoves his way in front of the nurses to face off against the doctor. “Shouldn’t you be, like, delicate with that information? I mean, aren’t you supposed to not contaminate his memories or something? And he just fucking woke up from a coma! Like, give the guy a moment to breathe!” 

The doctor and Billy are staring at him like Steve’s lost his mind, and honestly, he might as well have. Nothing makes sense anymore. Why is he trying to look out for Billy’s well being as if this doctor is going to suddenly spout that Billy had turned into a possessed black veined interdimensional monster thing and almost killed everyone? Oh right, government conspiracies. 

“Harrington,” Billy says, his voice not sounding nearly as bravado filled as it had minutes before, “What is this chucklefuck talking about?”

The doctor makes a face of disgust and snaps his clipboard shut. “Since you two seem to have everything under control here, I’ll just leave. I’ve got a lot of other patients who need tending to and whose insurance is a damn sight better than yours.” 

In sync, Billy and Steve flip the doctor off, because, seriously, what a fucking asshole. Billy can’t help his insurance provider any more than Steve can help who his douchebag dad is. As a unit, the doctors and nurses file out of the room, leaving it suddenly bare.

Steve looks at Billy and shakes his head. “Dude, what an asshole.” 

Billy sneers. “Fucking hate doctors.”

”Ha, yeah.” Steve takes a moment to feel awkward, then gets over himself and drags one of the plastic chairs over to Billy’s bedside. “So, uh, you feeling okay?”

”No,” Billy snaps. He motions toward his sides and stomach. “Fucking burns. What - what, uh, happened? Because, that doctor, he said they found me on the fourth, but if that’s true, then - “

”Hey,” Steve says. “You were in a car crash, you did total your car, and you’ve been in a coma for a while. Like several weeks. But, hey, now you’re awake, and like, pissing off medical professionals!” He tugs a hand through his hair and grins manically. 

Billy looks at him, then laughs feebly. “Shit. So Starcourt really blew up?”

”Well, yeah. Pretty much. Which, you know, you’re taking all of this really well. You should be proud, or something.” Steve pats him on the shoulder and instantly feels like an idiot. 

But Billy kind of leans into the touch, so Steve leaves his hand there for a moment before taking it back. “You said - Max - “ Billy grimaces and doesn’t finish. 

Steve thinks about making him work for it. Making Billy own up to not actually hating Pippi Longstocking. Because as surreal as it feels, now that Billy is awake, it’s like he hasn’t missed a beat at all. Except Steve knows that Billy has missed more than just a beat, so he backs out. “Yeah, she’s good. She’s with her mom up in Fort Wayne. She, uh, really wants to be here, but they are staying with her aunt or something. She’ll be back next week.” 

Billy jerks his chin to show he’s heard. Then he asks, “My dad?”

”Oh, uh, I think he’s in Indianapolis? Something about lawyers and a payout for you being almost killed in the mall?” Steve shifts uncomfortably.. He never realized how crappy it is to be on the other end of this news. To be the one giving instead of receiving the news that you don’t have a single parent who cares enough to show up at the hospital for you.

Billy takes it in stride. “Whatever.” He presses his lips together, chewing on his bottom lip in clear agitation. “But the mall? What happened to it?”

When Max had been coming every day, she’d spent the ride over telling Steve what she planned on telling Billy when he woke up. If he didn’t remember how things happened. “I can’t just drop the truth on him all at once. It would blow his fucking mind. Probably send him back into a coma or something.” 

So Steve decides to honor that when he tells Billy the ‘truth.’ Steve shrugs. “Well, the official story is that it blew up. But nobody knows how or what caused it. Only that a bunch of people were inside. Something like thirty Hawkins residents died in there. You know, including Heather . . .” 

Billy closes his eyes. “I’m really fucking tired, Harrington.”

“Then sleep,” Steve says. “I’ll be here.” He motions to the cot forgotten behind him. 

“You really going to spend the night on that?” he asks, his words already fading away with sleep. 

“You want me to?” Steve asks. 

“No,” Billy says with a huff. 

“Alright.” Steve gets up, cracking his back from having spent most of the day in uncomfortable furniture. Billy’s hand shoots out and clamps down on his wrist. Steve looks at it for a moment. “Dude, you’re the worst,” he groans. 

Billy lets go, his wide lips curling into a self-indulgent smile. 

Steve pulls the cot back into place and resigns himself to a sleepless night. 

In the morning, Steve wakes up to find Billy still conked out. His too long curls are splayed all around his face like a chaotic halo. Steve grudgingly smiles at the sight and tries to shove this weird sentimental feeling to the soles of his feet. “Hey,” he says, gently prodding Billy’s shoulder.

Billy mashes his face into his pillow. “Fuck off,” he grumbles. 

“I’m going to,” Steve says. “I need a shower and a change of clothes. I’ll see you in the afternoon, okay?”

Billy flaps a hand at him and Steve takes this for the dismissal it clearly is. As Steve leaves the room, he sees Nurse Amanda watching with a coy smile from the nurses station. Steve ducks his head, a horrible blush working its way into his cheeks. He doesn’t know why he’s embarrassed, he hasn’t done anything to be embarrassed about. But she’s looking at him all soft and indulgently and Steve just can’t with that so he makes a brisk exit.


	2. imagine the things we'll do

Steve has just exited the elevator when he hears shouting. And crashing? Like shit hitting the floor. He has this weird moment of vertigo, because he just fucking knows it’s Billy making chaos. So he drags his feet as he inches toward the Nurse’s Station. 

Nurse Amanda sees him the second his stupid sneakers slide into view. Then she’s rushing at him, her elbow sliding into lock around his and dragging him toward a set of vending machines. “I usually try not to get involved with the drama side of my patients. The soap opera of it all, who comes to see them, who doesn’t, who they wait for, who they can’t wait to leave. But, whew boy,” she blows out a breath, shaking her head slowly. “Your Mr. Hargrove has me sunk deep in the drama.”

“He’s not my anything,” Steve mutters awkwardly, trying and failing to dislodge his arm from Nurse Amanda’s. “Really, we just play basketball together.”

She legitimately shushes him. Steve feels indignant. He hasn’t been shushed since being a grade schooler in the Hawkins Elementary library. “Mr. Hargrove has been throwing a hissy fit since eleven am. And you sure took your sweet time getting here. If he kicks one more nurse out of his room, I think Doctor Davidson is going to kick him out of the hospital..”

Steve looks at her from the side of his eyes. “What do you want me to do about it?” Because he honestly doesn’t know. Billy’s only been awake for like half a day and he’s already the worst patient in the hospital. So fucking typical. 

“He’s been asking for you.”

“No,” Steve laughs, “he hasn’t.” Steve knows a lie when he hears one, and even if in some alternate universe Billy really wanted Steve to come hang out with him in the hospital and play War or some shit, he wouldn’t admit it on pain of death. 

Nurse Amanda makes a mou of annoyance. “Alright, not in so many words, but I’m telling you, in the Hargrove soap opera, he has very much been asking for you by being a complete nightmare to everyone who isn’t you that goes into his room.”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, no offense to your nursing abilities or whatever, but Billy is a nightmare in general when he wants to be. So, like, I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to care -“

Nurse Amanda turns her head in the direction of Billy’s room and shouts, “Oh, Steve! You’re here.”

A sudden silence descends over Billy’s room. Steve’s cheeks heat up so fast he thinks you could probably fry an egg on his fucking face. Nurse Amanda slides her eyes in his direction, way too smug for a medical professional. 

“He’s had brain damage or something,” Steve protests, finally breaking free of her hold and walking quickly to Billy’s room, if only to get away from her weirdly knowing gaze. As if there is anything to know about Billy and Steve. 

Steve pops his head around the doorway of Billy’s room to see the damage and let’s his jaw sag. “Dude, you’re unreal..”

Billy looks murderous as he stabs his spoon into the red jello cup he’s holding. “Fuck you. I’m wounded. I almost died. I survived an explosion. I’m a fucking hero.”

Steve can already see this entire thing inflating Billy’s ego to even more insufferable heights. Steve stays where he is, surveying the wreckage of the hospital soup, gross looking smoothie thing, and other liquid-type items now on the floor of Billy’s room. 

A nurse in the corner is glaring daggers at Billy. “This is entirely unacceptable, Mr. Hargrove. If you are going to treat the hospital staff this way -“

“Hey,” Billy cuts her off without looking up from his jello, “can’t you see I have company? So - get out?”

The nurse’s eyes bulge and Steve thinks that if it was physically possible, she would be shooting lasers into Billy’s skull. Feeling a horrific amount of secondhand embarrassment for Billy’s behavior, Steve sweeps into the room, dropping to his knees and hastily grabbing all the cutlery and bowls he can from the floor. 

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes on Billy’s behalf. “I know you look at those blue eyes and think you’re looking at an angel, but hey, Lucifer fell from heaven, so I guess demons like him,” he jerked his head in Billy’s direction, “fall down to stir shit up every now and then too.”

The nurse, a pretty girl only a few years older than him, if Steve had to guess, tucks her curly blonde hair behind her ear, and shifts her expression of hatred into one of mild charm. “Why couldn’t you be my patient instead?”

“I got out of the explosion before the exploding part,” he says with a smile. 

The nurse smiles back and Steve does a mental fist pump. This is what his life is supposed to be like. Charming pretty girls with ease. Not sounding like a fucking idiot in his godforsaken Scoops Ahoy outfit. 

“I’m Sarah,” the girl says, lifting the tray with Billy’s discarded meal on it. 

“And I’m fucking gagging over here. Can you save your demented romance for when I’m unconscious, which I’ve been told is most of the time?” Billy says snidely from above them. 

Steve rolls his eyes, sharing a secret smile with Sarah before standing up. “I’m Steve,” he tells her. “And I really am sorry that Billy was raised by wolves.”

She laughs. “Well, thanks for helping me.”

“Sure.” Steve watches her as she leaves the room, watching the way her white nurse’s outfit hugs her hips ever so perfectly. Then something hard and metal hits the back of his head and Steve yelps in pain. 

“What the fuck, Hargrove!” Steve snaps as he whirls around. 

Billy just glares at him. “When the fuck am I leaving here? I’m awake now, aren’t I? So I’ve got a right to leave and not have dipshits constantly shining lights into my eyes and asking me questions as if I might suddenly have regressed back to being a two year old.”

“I mean, yeah,” Steve starts cautiously, because he gets that Billy’s frustrated, but there’s also a very legitimate reason for him being in the hospital. “But, you were in the biggest disaster Hawkins has ever had, so . . .” 

As Billy scrutinizes him, his eyes suddenly narrow with interest. “How’d you get that?” He points in the general direction of Steve’s face. 

“Pretty sure I was born with all of this,” Steve says, waving his hand in a circle around his face. 

“No dumbass, that.” Billy thumbs at his own lip. 

Steve frowns, honestly confused. “What?”

Billy sighs like Steve is the biggest idiot he knows. “The scar, shithead. Well, at least it’s going to scar.”

Steve blinks for a moment before realizing Billy is talking about the dumb gash at the left corner of his bottom lip, courtsey of Russia. It’s a raised pink line that Steve avoids looking at in the mirror. 

“I was at Starcourt too,” Steve says, “the night of the explosion. I worked at Scoops Ahoy this summer.”

The look Billy gives Steve is so critical it makes Steve’s skin crawl. “I’m not stupid, Hargrove. The doctors are after me to remember why I was at Starcourt, you told me a bunch of people died that night, but I’m the only one in the hospital So tell me what you know that I don’t.” 

Billy stares at him, like he can glare the truth out of Steve, so Steve turns his head to look at the wall, and taps his fingers impatiently against the arms of the plastic chair while he tries to think about what to tell Billy. There’s a lot he won’t say because he’s not sure it’s even his place to. But he has to tell Billy something or this fragile understanding between them will go up in smoke. 

Eventually, Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It was a hell of a night. I don’t know what you remember from earlier, but thirty-one people died, Billy. And everyone thought you were dead. You weren’t the only one hurt either. There was a girl with a chunk missing out of her leg who practically bled to death. Robin was bashed all to hell. Then there were a bunch of middle schoolers - “

“Robin from my year?” Billy interrupts, like that’s the pertinent information. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Steve says. 

He’d never really thought much about Billy being a year behind him in school. It just hadn’t seemed justified. Billy was the same age as Steve, but transferring from California had somehow ended up with Billy back a year because they didn’t teach the same credits on the West Coast, or whatever. 

And how Steve even knows any of that just proves he spent too much of his summer with Dustin’s Brat Pack while letting them sneak into movies. 

“So you were at the mall because you worked there,” Billy says, like he’s suddenly processing this information. 

Steve turns to look at him warily. Steve might not know much about Billy, but he does know from the whole ‘King Steve’ debacle that once Billy latches onto something, he holds on to it like a fucking bulldog. 

“Why was I at the mall?” Billy asks. 

Steve gives an exasperated shrug. “The hell should I know, Billy? It’s not exactly like we're friends.”

“Sure sounds like we are when you say my name like that,” Billy snipes. 

“Like what?” Steve throws his hands up in the air. No wonder Billy is driving the hospital crazy. Steve’s been here for less than ten minutes and he’s regretting every event in his life that led to this moment. 

Billy just shakes his head disgustedly at Steve, like Steve’s so stupid he can’t even deal with it. So Steve picks up his backpack from by the door and rifles through until he finds his book. He sits down in his customary plastic chair and cracks the book open. 

The perfect silence of Billy’s room lasts exactly eleven minutes. Then Billy throws one of his pillows at Steve’s face and Steve drops his book. “Hey, dickhead, I was reading that,” Steve grouses, gently tossing Billy’s pillow back for fear of those tentacle wounds on his chest. 

“And I’m going out of my fucking mind with boredom over here. So entertain me, Harrington. Why the fuck are you here in the first place?” He pierces Steve with one of his ‘I’ll fuck you up’ looks. 

“Your sister asked me to.”

“Not my sister,” Billy says shortly. 

Steve shoots him an unimpressed look. “I mean, not to be Captain Obvious, but you don’t have a lot of people rooting for you right now. Maybe let Max call you her brother and be glad anyone wants to do that?”

Billy flips him off, his eyes going sharp with annoyance. “Then why don’t you fuck off. You made your appearance and I don’t fucking want you here so. Drop dead or some shit like that.“

Steve shrugs. “Okay.” He grabs his book from the floor and stuffs it back into his backpack. He leaves without looking back at Billy, but stops by Nurse Amanda’s desk. 

She looks up from her papers, sees Steve and darts an anxious look to Billy’s room. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

“Hey, he doesn’t want me here and honestly I’d rather do something else with my afternoon than sit by his bed and get dumped on,” Steve says plainly. “Just thought I should let you know before I took off.”

“Steve,” Nurse Amanda says earnestly. She rests her hand over his and even though she can’t be more than five years older than Steve, she seems infinite in her wisdom in this moment. “That boy in there just woke up when no one thought he was going to. He has wounds we don’t understand and aren’t sure have fully healed. He doesn’t know it yet, but tomorrow they are wheeling him through endless tests. He might not be the nicest person, but he needs a friend right now.”

Millimeter by Millimeter, Steve’s shoulders sag. “Seriously,” he whines, “unfair.”

Nurse Amanda perks up with a smile. “Such a gentleman.” 

He frowns. “My friend Robin would call this emotional blackmail.”

“She would be right.” Nurse Amanda pats Steve consolingly on the shoulder and looks back down at her paperwork. 

Dragging his feet, Steve pulls himself back to Billy’s room. He nudges the door open with his shoe, sort of hating himself for going back and sort of being proud of himself for not just running away even if Billy really is a douchebag, Mindflayer heroism or not. 

Billy jerks his head up when Steve enters, but then he goes back to staring at the IV in his hand like he doesn’t give a shit. Steve goes back to his chair, takes out his book again, and starts to read. 

He’s really getting into it when he hears this soft snuffling sound. Steve levels his eyes just above his book and sees Billy asleep, his head turned toward Steve. Again, in sleep Billy looks like the kind of guy you would be cool with talking to. Then he wakes up and you regret ever being in his presence. Steve lowers his eyes and keeps reading. 

A half hour later, Steve gets up and stretches. He’s ready to go, but he feels like he should say bye to Billy or something before he leaves. He reaches over and taps Billy on the shoulder. Billy scrunches up his nose, but doesn’t respond. 

Steve taps him harder. Billy swats at him. 

Steve says, “Hey, shithead.”

And Billy blinks awake. “The fuck you still doing here?”

“I promised Max,” Steve says and Billy doesn’t push it. “But I’m leaving now. I’ll see you tomorrow. Try not to get kicked out in the meantime, yeah?”

Billy just closes his eyes like he could give less of a shit and honestly, he probably could. Steve isn’t anyone to him, just some guy on the basketball team that he thought was possibly creeping on his step-sister and who he then proceeded to try and kill with kitchenware. 

Steve’s at the door when Billy coughs in this completely fake way. Steve lifts a brow and looks back at him. 

Billy makes a face. “How long do I have to stay here? Did anyone say?”

“Oh,” Steve shoves his hands in his pockets. “Not really, no. I think, like, they want to make sure you’re not going to suddenly go catatonic or something and then maybe let you out?”

Billy blows out an irritated breath. “I fucking hate being here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a hospital. Pretty sure that makes it everyone’s least favorite place.” 

In his bed, Billy fidgets, his fingers messing with his sheets, his shoulders shifting against the headrest. Steve frowns. He has never spent that much time with Billy, but he has spent some time with Max and even though Billy might deny being related to her, it’s obvious some of the family similarities have worn off on both of them. These are all of Max’s same tells for being uncomfortable. 

He’s so close to the door, honestly the tip of his left sneaker is in the hallway. He could leave. He could just walk out this door, conscious clear, and go home to reheat whatever take-away Angela got him today. Instead, Steve drops his backpack by the door and makes the short walk back to his damn plastic chair. 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

Billy presses his lips together, biting into his bottom lip before finally saying, “They won’t fucking tell me what day it is. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep for.” 

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh. Oh, yeah, okay, well,” he scratches the back of his neck, thinking back, “uhm, you got here on the fourth and today is the twenty-eight, so -“

He breaks off at the freaked look on Billy’s face. “Fuck.” Billy’s hands clench into fists. “Fuck. Twenty-four days?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Steve says awkwardly. He hasn’t really thought about it in terms of days before and suddenly, yeah, twenty-four days seems like a really long time to be asleep and in the hospital. “But, I mean, you were healing from some seriously stunning wounds and that’s got to take, like, a lot of energy or whatever.” 

Billy glances down at his chest. “What’s it look like?”

Steve boggles at him. “I don’t know. I mean, at the mall, you were all gross and covered in like gross stuff, so I didn’t see it then. And it’s not like they’ve been changing the dressings when I’m in the room, so your guess is as good as mine.” 

Billy plucks mournfully at his green hospital gown. “It better be a badass scar.”

Steve laughs, honestly amused. Billy looks at him sharply but when he sees that Steve isn’t laughing at him, he smirks slightly. “Probably more badass than mine,” Steve says. 

Billy’s smirk ticks wider. “Well, that’s fucking obvious, Harrington. You look like you bashed your face into a table or something equally lame.” 

Steve’s got this wild urge to tell Billy that isn’t even the half of it, that he had a crazed stand off with Russians who used a truth serum on him that got him high and then they beat the fucking shit out of him, making Billy’s beating look like a fucking love tap in comparison. Instead, Steve smirks back. “Sure, a table.”

Billy eyes him, like he knows Steve’s hiding something, but lets it go at that. “Did they say what’s exactly wrong with me?”

“Well, the coma thing. And I guess they’re worried about your wounds. But nothing, like, major as far as I’ve been told or that Max knows about.” 

Steve thinks about the day of tests they have lined up for Billy tomorrow. He gets that lurking feeling of government conspiracy, but there’s not much he can do about that. He’s not in a position to keep them from running whatever tests they want on Billy and Billy’s dad doesn’t seem to want to make an appearance so Billy is just going to have to face the Men in Black on his own. 

“Yeah,” Billy says distantly. He seems to get lost in thought for a moment and Steve is thinking he’s clear to try and leave again when Billy suddenly says, “So what the hell does a disaster survivor have to do here to get some more jello, do you think?”

Steve laughs. “I don’t know. But I sure as shit don’t think Nurse Sarah is going to help you score any.” 

By the time he leaves, Steve is alarmed to say he didn’t have a completely horrible time. He had spent another forty minutes in Billy’s room just talking shit with him. Billy bitched about his totaled Camaro. Steve complained about wanting a better looking car than his dad’s BMW. Billy ragged him mercilessly for having a car paid for by daddy. They went into a stalemate of refusing to speak to each other. Then Steve asked how Billy got the Camaro in the first place and Billy went into rapture describing fixing the car up himself in California in his buddy’s auto-garage. 

When Steve pulls into his driveway, he’s not completely dreading going back to the hospital tomorrow. Which is worrisome, because Steve doesn’t want to like Billy, he wants to tolerate him. Because no matter how semi-decent Billy seems right now, Steve knows it’s only because he’s still healing and not in his complete faculties yet. Once he is, well, shit is going to go right back to hitting the fan. Billy might be a lot of things, but nice isn’t one of them.

~*~*~*~*~

When his doorbell rings that night, Steve is in low slung sweats and an old Hawkins High basketball shirt. He pulls open the door and makes grabby hands at the pizza Robin is holding.

"You owe me four bucks," she tells him, passing off the pizza box. 

"I'm giving you the pleasure of my company, isn't that payment enough?" He carries the pizza into his obnoxiously large living room. 

Steve has set up the room for their weekly movie night. There's popcorn, a variety of soda pops, and a selection of candy boxes spread out on the coffee table. Ever since the Russian drugging, Robin and Steve haven't been too keen for anything as minor as even a buzz. 

"What are we watching?" Steve asks. The movie night had been initiated after Steve almost got fired his first week at the video store. Steve really doesn't know shit about movies and he has no idea how long he'll be able to fake his job before he can find one he is even slightly more qualified for. 

"Tracey loves 9 to 5 and I've never seen it, so get ready to say howdy to Dolly Parton." Robin takes the VHS out of her messenger bag and waves it enticingly at Steve. 

He shrugs. "Whatever I can do to assist your romance with a non-Muppet." 

"Steve!" Robin shrieks, laughing. "Oh my God. Like you've got room to talk when you're playing bedside nurse to fucking Animal." 

Steve laughs so hard he's crying. It's just such a perfect image. The utterly spastic and wild drummer thing in the Muppets is exactly Billy. Weird mullet-esque hair and all. “Shit! So true. And Billy would punch you in the teeth if he ever heard you say it." 

Robin tosses her head. "Not likely. I battled down evil Russians. Some Billy Idol wannabe doesn't scare me." 

Steve mimes Animal's routine on the drums and cracks up laughing again. 

"How's Billy doing anyway?" Robin sits down on the couch and pops open a Dr. Pepper. 

Steve's face twists up in disbelief because he is just now realizing that he hasn't told anyone outside of Max that Billy is awake. Which implies weird things about his social life. Like, before Nancy, Steve told Tommy everything. They talked every day if they weren't already spending the whole day bumming around together. But since their fallout, Steve is realizing that after he broke up with Nancy, there isn't particularly anyone he shares his daily life with. And that is pretty trippy. 

Steve opens up the pizza and takes out a slice. “Ah, well, actually, Billy woke up.”

”What!” Robin shouts, jumping up from the couch and pointing accusingly at Steve. “When did this happen? This is like major news! Isn’t it?” she falters at this last.

“No, yeah, totally,” Steve quickly reassures. “He, uh, woke up yesterday.”

“What!” She’s gone up another octave and Steve is hearing faint ringing in his ears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno! I guess, like, it slipped my mind? I was rushing back here to call Max and then pack up for the hospital so -“

“Pack up for the hospital?” Robin drops dramatically back to the couch. She grabs the uneaten pizza out of Steve’s hand and takes a savage bite. “Why were you at the hospital.” She narrows her eyes at him; they glimmer with interest. 

Steve chooses a new slice of pizza, taking his time about it too, like it matters which one has more pepperoni and less sauce. “Well, the nursing staff told me they wanted someone around when he woke up. And, it’s really not like anyone else is showing up for the guy so . . . “

“Jesus.” Robin shakes her head sending her hair slashing across her cheeks. “This is so fucking Twilight Zone. You told me about Billy, he of the plate smashing. And we probably could have killed him when we hit him with the car. And like, yep, I know, possessed and everything. But, hey, I go to Hawkins High too and the guy is a fucking douchebag. And, yes, I know we’re visiting him on behalf of his super angry little sister, but like, whoa -“ Robin pauses to take a breath. “Staying the night? Whoa, heavy.” 

Steve aggressively eats his pizza. It is not as if he hasn’t had this exact conversation with himself about once a day since agreeing to give Max a ride to the hospital. “Yeah, I know,” he says finally, wiping grease from his chin. “And he’s definitely still an asshole, but he’s also alone and pretty fucked up health wise. So, yeah, I hang out with him during visiting hours like Max asked and,” he shrugs, “I mean, it’s not completely terrible.”

Robin blinks her eyes wide. “So. Weird.” 

“Whatever, it’ll be done with as soon as Max gets home.”

“And when’s that?”

Steve picks up the VHS and takes it with him towards his TV. “Uh, like another week?”

Robin bursts into peels of gleeful laughter. “This is so wild! Steve Harrington playing Florence Nightingale to Hawkins resident bad boy Billy Hargrove. I should start coming back to the hospital to sit on the sidelines with my popcorn while you two have heart to hearts.”

“We argue,” Steve says flatly. “Mostly we argue. And when he falls asleep, I read my book.”

“Oh, the detective one?” Robin asks, jumping on the new topic with vigor for which Steve is entirely grateful. Maybe this is why he hadn’t mentioned to anyone that Billy was awake. It only led to awkward questions he didn’t really feel like answering or thinking too hard about.

~*~*~*~*~

Nurse Amanda had told Steve to come late in the afternoon the following day because Billy’s tests were going to take up most of the morning. So Steve works his shift at the video store from eleven am to four pm and pretends not to think about what ‘tests’ Billy might be undergoing. He’d caved last night, finally giving into this secret well of worry he’s been harboring for Billy since the moment Billy woke up panicking for Max.

He called Mrs. Byers. 

It wasn’t that Steve had anything against Mrs. Byers, because he really didn’t. From what little he knew, Mrs. Byers was pretty fucking badass. It just felt weird bringing up Upside Down stuff with her, since her family had lived through it more than any of them. Well, except for Eleven who was now on her way to becoming a Byers so, case and point. 

Still, when he called, Mrs. Byers had answered the phone cheerfully enough and had seemed cool with talking to him about the doctor side of stuff. Steve wanted to know what tests they had run on Will, what the results had meant, and how they started to know that Will wasn’t all Will yet. 

“Is this about Billy?” she had asked. 

Steve had anxiously twisted the phone line around his finger, winding it tight enough to feel his blood pulse against the rubber. “Yeah, he’s, uh, at the hospital and his dad’s not really around and his step-mom is out of town and -“

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mrs. Byers had soothed. “I know all about absentee fathers, trust me.” 

“Right,” Steve laughed nervously. And for some stupid reason he had added, “Me too.”

Mrs. Byers was kind enough not to comment, steering their conversation back to Billy. She had given him a run down of the type of tests to ask about when he went to the hospital. Then she had handed the phone over to Will who gave Steve another set of questions to ask Billy himself. 

“To check for the Mindflayer,” Will had said solemnly as their call was winding down. “Because every time we think we’ve beaten it, it comes back. It comes back bigger, stronger, and scarier than before.” 

Which is why Steve has a notebook in his backpack today, along with Until Proven Guilty. It’s five when Steve gets to Billy’s ward which gives him an hour left of visiting hours. Not that Steve thinks it’s going to take him an hour to run through his list of questions for the doctors and Billy. 

He knocks before entering Billy’s room. Billy doesn’t respond to the knock and he doesn’t look over at Steve when he enters the room. Instead, he’s slumped down in the bed, rumpled sheets pooled around his hips. 

“How’s it going?” Steve asks, pitching his voice toward optimism. 

Billy rolls his eyes in Steve’s direction before slanting them back toward the curtained windows. He looks like hell. Like the way he looked the night of the Starcourt Disaster. Skin a pale sheen; eyes bloodshot, red rimmed, with dark circles underneath. 

“That great, huh?” Steve jokes awkwardly. He puts his backpack down by his chair. He stands with his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do. So far, Billy hasn’t refused to talk to him. But if he’s not feeling up to it now, should Steve go and harass Nurse Amanda until she breaks all the hospital rules and tells Steve what tests they gave Billy?

Just as Steve is edging toward the door, Billy says, “Max hasn’t called.”

Steve pauses. “Oh, well, I mean, I talked to her on the phone. She’s really glad you’re okay. And I’m sure she’d want to call you, you know, if she thought you’d answer . . .” Steve trails off because he’s only got a fake sibling, Dustin, so he has no idea what kind of real step-sibling relationship Billy and Max have, but from the few interactions he’s seen, he wouldn’t say it’s a Farrah Fawcett secret sharing kind. 

Billy picks at his sheets, not showing any sign that he’s heard Steve. 

“They, uh, give you some new medicine?” Steve asks, trying to take a stab at what has Billy even more out of whack than usual. 

Billy keeps picking at his sheets, and that well of worry in Steve slowly fills up until it’s threatening to overflow. Steve walks around the bed, standing in front of the curtains that Billy is so intent on staring at. From here, he can see the smear marks on Billy’s cheeks from where he’s been crying and trying to hide it. 

“Oh,” Steve says softly. He crouches down, trying to be more eye level with Billy and less awkwardly towering over him. “You okay, man? Like are you in pain or just, you know, emotional pain?”

Billy shrugs. 

“Well, is there something I can do to help?”

Billy glances up at Steve, stares at him with his huge blue eyes. “Am I crazy? Did I total my car and lose my fucking mind? Because that’s how it feels.”

Anxiety tugs fiercely at Steve’s heart. He doesn’t want to be the one answering these questions and he’s pretty sure he isn’t the person who should be answering them at all. Still, he asks, “What do you mean?” 

“They gave me an MRI,” Billy says, his voice haunting in how hollow it sounds, how completely devoid of Billy and his mad at the world attitude. “It was so dark and so loud. And that’s how I felt before. When I was sleeping, or in a coma, or whatever. It was so dark, everything was dark but even in the dark there was this shadow. This huge fucking shadow.” Billy breaks off, more tears slipping down the curves of his cheeks. 

Steve grabs the tissue from Billy’s side table and passes it over to him. “You’re not crazy,” Steve promises, his voice a whisper, because he is still a big believer in government conspiracies. “When Max gets back, she’ll help you sort through everything, but for right now, maybe you’re better off keeping the shadow stuff to yourself.” 

Billy’s eyes latch back onto Steve. “How do you know about it?” he demands, sounding more like his usual pissed off self which Steve takes as a good sign. 

“Because I’ve seen shit too, Billy. I’ve seen the Shadows.” Steve stands up, cracking his back as he does so. “Now, I know you were kind of out of it for the first few times, but I was reading you this fucking awesome book while you were unconscious and I’m almost at the end, so like, wipe the snot off your face and buckle up for this wild ride.” 

He tosses the tissue box in Billy’s lap, watching from the corner of his eye as Billy blinks in surprise before his eyebrows V and he flips Steve off. “I don’t want to listen to your shitty book,” he complains, tone no longer soft and lost. 

Steve is incredibly relieved. Soft and ‘lost Billy’ is a lot more terrifying than ‘punch you in the face Billy.’ “Too bad for you, I’m your only guest and you didn’t get one of the good rooms with a TV, so it’s me and Detective J.P. Beaumont or nothing at all.” 

“Nothing at all,” Billy votes. 

Steve holds up his book. “Detective J.P. And I out vote you. Tough luck.” Steve opens to his bookmark and starts reading, raising his voice to be heard over Billy’s curse filled muttering. Ten minutes later, Billy is hooked, and the two of them are racing toward the conclusion of Until Proven Guilty, courtesy of Detective J.P.’s badass detecting skills. 

“What the fuck, Harrington?” Billy shouts when the book is over. He tosses a pillow at Steve that hits him directly in the face. 

Steve fends it off to the ground. “What are you even talking about?” Steve demands, offended. “This book was awesome! J.P. is so rad!”

“No, he’s fucking not, you shithead! That phone company guy totally knew what was going on and would have cleared everything up in seconds if Blow Job Beaumont hadn’t been so fucking busy trying to dick down with that chick to hear him out!“

“The phone guy!” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Did you even fucking listen to the book?”

Billy cuts off, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he starts laughing, a cough like sound to avoid aggravating his abdomen too much. “No, I was fucking unconscious, remember?” And then he keeps laughing. Honest to god, real life laughter. Not that fucked up, ‘I am looking forward to killing you’ laughter. Real laughter, the kind you’d actually want to hear, every day if possible. 

Steve can’t help but laugh with him. 

And, suddenly, Steve has that vertigo feeling again, that things are shifting between him and Billy and Steve isn’t entirely sure he’s okay with that. Not with Billy still in the dark about the Upside Down, and Billy having never shown a centimeter of regret about Lucas or the plate. And just like that, he’s not laughing any longer. 

“Hey, uh, I need to go talk to Nurse Amanda before she heads out for the day,” Steve says, abruptly standing up. 

Billy makes a face but makes grabby hands in Steve’s direction. “Give me the book. I wanna see if I can catch up to this cluterfuck.”  
Steve tosses it over. 

Nurse Amanda is chatting happily with Nurse Sarah at the Nurses’ Station when Steve walks up. He’s got his notebook and a pencil in one hand. He lays them out on the counter top and gives both women his most winning smile. 

Nurse Amanda’s cheerful demeanor drops immediately. “I already can’t tell you whatever it is you want to know, Steve.”

“Hey, hey,” Steve says, holding his hands up innocently. “I’ve just got a couple of quick questions from Mr. Hargrove. He called me up this afternoon, wanted me to check in with a few things because he can’t be here.” 

Steve thinks it’s a pretty decent lie, so he doesn't know why Nurse Amanda is looking at him like he’s a sad baby boy. “Honey,” she says, “that man hasn’t answered the phone once since his son got here. But he sure did call us up quick when he got Billy’s first medical bill this morning. Laid it all out plainly. He doesn’t want us doing a thing with Billy until he gets a payout from the mall corporation.” 

“Ah, right, exactly,” Steve hedges nervously. “Which is why he wants to know what tests Billy got. So he can argue them with the insurance company asap.” 

Nurse Amanda shares a look with Nurse Sarah. They both have their pity faces on. Steve is kind of hoping that will work in his favor. Sometimes people do things for you because they pity you, that is totally a thing. Before being a douchebag about it, Tommy had been all pity party for Steve about being cheated on by Nancy. And, yeah, the thing he had done was spray degrading statements about Nancy on the movie theater, but still, pity help! It was a thing. 

“I’m leaving early,” Nurse Amanda says pointedly to Nurse Sarah. As if to make it official, she takes off her name tag and pockets it. Then she unlocks one of the filing cabinets and pulls out a folder. 

Fucking score for pity help!

Steve follows Amanda back to Billy’s room. Billy looks up from the start of Until Proven Guilty and pulls a face. “Fuck no. I said no more fucking nurses today. If somebody tries to stick one more fucking needle in me, I will seriously stab it through their eye.”

“Such a charming bedside manner,” Amanda comments. “You’re lucky you have Steve as a friend.”

“I’m not his friend,” Billy and Steve say in unison, then glare at each other because if anything makes them sound like liars, it’s talking like twins. 

“Keep your drama for each other. Steve wants private information, are you willing to share it with him?”

Billy’s eyes dart from Steve to Amanda. “What private information, Harrington?”

“I want to know about the tests they were running on you,” Steve says honestly. 

Billy tosses Until Proven Guilty onto his bedside table. “What for?” 

“Remember the dead kid you were making fun of last year? The one whose house you showed up at and then you tried to bash my brains in in his kitchen?”

It’s Amanda’s turn to shoot a look between them. “So you weren’t really joking about that not friends thing,” she comments. 

“Not in the least,” Steve says. “But that kid, Will Byers, he went through this shit too. There were so many tests after he came back. So I wanted to know, is that what’s going on here too? Is whatever happened to you the same thing that happened to him? Because Will’s amnesia went back a lot longer than yours, but still, same thing. Disappeared one day, presumed dead, and then he shows up again all of a sudden, almost dead, with no memory.” 

Steve says all of this in as fast a blur as he can, because the quicker he gets it out, the more believable it will be, and even if there are definite similarities in this story Steve is weaving and in the truth of the matter, there is also so much more. Did Billy go to the Upside Down? How did he bleed black that night at Starcourt? What did Billy become when he was possessed? Why can’t the doctors say what’s wrong with him now? How did Billy survive, black blood, tentacle bites, and all, when none of the others had?

“Ask away, pretty boy,” Billy says with a dirty look at Nurse Amanda. It’s clear for Billy the battle lines are being drawn and for once, Steve is standing on the same side as Billy. 

“Alright,” Amanda says slowly. “What do you want to know, Steve?”

By the time Amanda is done reeling off every test that has been performed on Billy since he was admitted to the hospital, the list in Steve’s notebook is two pages long. Only half of those tests match with tests the shady government scientist had run on Will Byers. It makes Steve’s stomach churn. 

Amanda stands there watching them. Billy looks to Steve to see if they’re done. Steve doesn’t know if there is more he should be asking, more he should be trying to find out. But for now, this is all he’s got. And what it amounts to is that the hospital is the last place Billy should be. 

“How’s his muscle strength?” Steve asks. 

Mrs. Byers had mentioned that was one of the bigger hurdles for Will to get over. After so long freezing and barely moving in Upside Down, Will had to get himself back into working order. For Billy to make a break from the hospital, Steve is really going to need him to be able to walk out of here under his own power. 

Amanda's eyebrows jump up for a second. "Well, Billy has been here for a few weeks and we've been maintaining the typical regime of gentle muscle exercise. It might be a bit disconcerting at first, but he should be fine." 

Billy, apparently, takes this as the all clear, because the next moment he is leveraging himself out of the bed, stabilizing himself with a hand against Steve's shoulder. Steve anchors him there, lending his weight to Billy when he dips left as his feet touch the floor.

"Shit," Billy says hazily. 

"You might have a touch of Vertigo from being in the bed so long," Amanda cautions. 

Billy shuffles a few steps forward, with Steve supporting most of his weight. “How are you feeling?” Steve asks, thinking about how fast and confidently Billy moves on the basketball court. Nothing like his tentative woozy steps right now. 

“Like I’ve got chunks missing from my torso and some string bean idiotic doing his best to drag me to the floor.” 

“String bean idiot,” Steve scoffs. “Man, you must be way worse off than you look if that’s the best you’ve got.”

Billy flips him off tiredly. “Haul me back to bed, Harrington.”

Steve does so, easing Billy carefully back down, arm around his shoulders. He’s not entirely sure of the extent of Billy’s injuries so he isn’t going to be touching anything beneath his shoulders. He saw Billy pinioned by the Mindflayer in all of the black, bloody glory. 

“I wouldn’t be too put out,” Amanda says, sliding Billy’s clipboard file back into it’s spot at the end of his bed. “You’ll have a few dates with our physical therapist and be back to normal in no time.”

Billy shoots Steve a look. Yeah, sticking around apparently isn’t part of Billy’s plan either, but Amanda doesn’t need to know that. Not yet at least. “Well, thank you so much for all your help,” Steve says politely but pointedly. 

Amanda sighs. “Have a good evening, boys.” She gives them a. critical look before turning around and heading out of the room. 

Billy snatches Steve’s wrist, bruising Steve’s skin with the half moons of his nails. “I’m not fucking staying in here, Harrington, like some fucking science guinea pig.”

Steve tries to shake loose but Billy only cuts into him deeper. “Jesus, man, let me go before I lose my fucking wrist.”

Billy tosses Steve’s wrist away disdainfully. “Get me out of here, Harrington, or I swear -“

“Billy, chill out,” Steve hisses. He makes a quick side step to the door, kicking it shut with the tip of his sneaker. “Can you make it until tomorrow? I can’t just Rambo you out of here right now.”

“Why not?” Billy asks petulantly. 

Steve just shakes his head at this. “Tomorrow,” he promises.

~*~*~*~*~

The first thing Steve does when he gets back to his house is check the answering machine. There are two messages. One from his mother saying that she’s decided to spend another week in Miami with some aunt that Steve has never met. One from his father saying that the business deal in New York is taking longer than expected so he won’t be home for a few more days.

Steve rolls his eyes. Being out of sight and out of mind is his parents MO at this point. The only time his dad shows up is to be judgemental as hell about Steve’s life choices and his inability to get more than a B- in any of his classes. When his mom is around, she spends her time bitching about Steve’s dad and nagging Steve to cut his hair. 

Steve picks up the phone, checks the number written down for Max, and dials it in. The phone rings long enough that Steve thinks maybe nobody’s home at Aunt Marie’s. Then a shouting thirteen year old answers and Steve jerks the phone away from his ear. “I’ve got it, Mom! I’ve got it! Jesus,” Max huffs. “Hello?”

“Pippi?” Steve asks. 

“Finally!” Max grouses. “I’ve been waiting forever.” 

“It’s been, like, a day,” Steve points out. 

He hops up on the counter, as is his custom, and kicks the fridge open with one socked foot. Tilting his head to the left, he scans the meager contents. Angela picked up more Dr. Pepper, because she always has Steve’s best interests in mind. She also made baked macaroni and cheese. Who the hell needs parents when you have the greatest housekeeper ever? 

“How’s Billy? Did he - did he ask about me?” She sounds delicately nervous. 

Steve knows Billy and Max were at each other’s throats for the better part of their first few months in Hawkins. But something happened after the night with the plate smash. They weren't friends and they definitely weren’t siblings, but they had come to an understanding. One that apparently Max felt very strongly about. 

“He did,” Steve says. “Actually, he bitched about you not calling him.” 

Max drops her voice, probably to not be overheard by her relatives, “Asshole. As if he would even answer if I did call.” She says it fondly. “But he’s okay? Does he remember anything?”

“Nothing after some car crash he said he had until he woke up. And I didn’t clue him into anything either,” Steve assures before she can ask. “But there is one thing that’s kind of hinky.” 

“What?” Max asks flatly. Which is concerning, she is way too young to be able to shut down her childhood and turn into an adult with the inflection on one word. 

“The doctors. When’s the soonest you and your mom can get back? I think we should get Billy out of the hospital sooner rather than later.” 

“I’ve been begging my mom to take me home since you said Billy woke up. She’s torn, because she knows the right thing to do is go back and help Billy, but Aunt Marie is on this campaign about how Billy isn’t her son and she owes him nothing. I’m thinking about turning on the water works.”

“Then do it,” Steve prompts. “I know you weren’t here for the first go around with the Upside Down, but we had Hawkins crawling with Men in Black, the same ones that had El caged up until she broke free. If I had to make a guess, I’d say they’re willing to do worse to a guy that’s been in psychic contact with the Mindflayer.” 

Steve slides off the counter. He thinks about anyone trying to put Billy in a cage. The first thing that comes to mind is a tiger pacing the gating at the zoo. He grimaces. 

“I’ll make my mom come home. But, we probably won’t be back until late tomorrow.” He can hear the same fear in his voice that echoes in his thoughts. 

“Don’t worry,” he bluffs, because he’s older and figures he has the responsibility of making it sound like he can shoulder the things she can’t., “I’ll figure it out.” 

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Sure, Pippi. Just make sure your tears are believable.” 

Max laughs tiredly. “Okay.”

~*~*~*~*~

Mrs. Byers is extremely apologetic when Steve calls her the next morning. “Honey, there’s nothing I can do for you, I’m so sorry. I’m swamped right now with trying to get Eleven adopted and putting the house up for sale. If I get arrested for breaking some kid out of the hospital, I don’t think I’ll be able to ever leave this city.”

Steve hangs his head. “Yeah, I know. Thanks though.”

“Of course,” she says and hangs up.

Outside of Mrs. Byers, Hawkins is really low on responsible parents that Steve actually knows well enough to call up. Like, the population might as well be zero. So thank fuck for Mrs. Henderson. Steve drives up to Dustin’s house, going a few miles over the speed limit, and swings his car into the driveway. He hops out, pushes his sunglasses into his hair and runs for the door. He rings the doorbell repeatedly until Mrs. Henderson, in a tizzy, pulls open the door. 

“Oh, Steven! Are you alright, dear? Come in, come in.” She puts a warm hand on his elbow and guides him into the house. She steers him to the couch and pushes him gently back into it. “Oh my, you just look all sorts of disheveled. What happened? Did you have an accident?”

“Steve?” Dustin shouts from the back of the house moments before he’s pounding his way into the living room. “Steve!” He throws himself at Steve in an uncoordinated hug. Steve hugs him back. 

“Oh my,” Mrs. Henderson says again, her hands going to fret at the small gold watch on her wrist. “What happened?”

Steve takes a deep breath, he looks at the two people outside of Robin that he has come to consider his family, and says, “I need your help.”

When Mrs. Henderson comes whirling into the hospital, an absolute fury of outrageous maternal feeling, Steve is beyond impressed. Dustin is too, watching his mom with proud awe. “She’s so scary,” Dustin says reverently. 

“Dude, how do you ever survive getting in trouble?” Steve whispers, watching as Mrs. Henderson just goes off on the poor souls at the Nurse’s Station. Her arms whip in arcs of reigning disapproval. Her voice reaches a pitch that echoes the mighty thunder of Thor. 

“Steve,” Dustin shakes his head, “I’m her baby boy, I’m very rarely at fault. It’s all the evil in the outside world that is corrupting me. That’s why I haven’t seen Mike and Lucas in forever. I can’t do that to them, let my mom going fucking ape shit on them.”

Steve nod understandingly, gaze riveted on Mrs. Henderson as she barges into Billy’s room, her purse swinging from the crook of her arm. She looks like an avenging Florence Nightingale and Steve has a sudden image of a Renaissance painting of Mrs. Henderson in the hospital ward. It would hang in museums for decades. 

In the end, it takes a half hour for Billy to be sitting in a wheelchair, wearing hospital scrubs, with Steve behind him, wheeling him toward the exit of the hospital. Mrs. Henderson is muttering the whole time, occasionally raising her voice on words like ‘lawsuits,’ ‘negligence,’ ‘misconduct,’ and ‘innocent children.’ Dustin is absolutely gleeful at his mom’s side, holding her hand in his with love and admiration. 

“You’re sure you’ll be alright?” Mrs. Henderson asks, helping to ease Billy into the passenger seat of Steve’s car. 

“Yeah, thank you so much, Mrs. H. You’re just - you’re the best.” Steve straightens up and kisses Mrs. Henderson on the cheek. 

She beams at him, patting his cheek lovingly. “Oh, Steven. Anything else you need and you just give us a call, alright? Dusty’s been working on making improvements to his little radio station, so we’ll be home all day.”

“Mom,” Dustin says outraged, “it’s not little! I told you, it is -“

Steve cuts Dustin off with a fond tussle of his hair. “Come on, slugger, your mom’s a hero. You can’t got talking back today.”

Dustin sighs, aggrieved, but turns to his mom with a thrilled smile. “Mom, you were so badass in there.”

“Dusty!” Mrs. Henderson cries, appalled but also obviously thrilled. “Language!”

“Sorry, Mom,” Dustin shrugs, “but it’s true.” 

“Uh - thanks and all,” Billy interrupts, leaning his head out of the passenger seat, “but there’s nothing between my ass and Steve’s shitty BMW except a thin piece of hospital dressing gown.”

“Oh! Of course! You’ll want to be on your way,” Mrs. Henderson says, her eyes going wide as if she’s just remembering the entire reason for Dustin’s hero worship. She hugs Steve goodbye and takes Dustin by the hand to lead him to their car. 

Steve gives Dustin a salute and watches them for a moment before bending down toward the passenger seat. “You want me to buckle you in?”

Billy sneers. Then he grimaces. “No. I think it’ll bother my - “ he gestures toward the wounds on his stomach, unseen beneath the scrubs.

“Sure.” Steve nods. He closes the door carefully and walks around to the driver’s side. Then he climbs inside, buckles up, puts the key in the ignition, and places his hands on the steering wheel. 

“What now?” Billy asks. 

Steve had talked this part over with Will. “You’re going to take a bath,” Steve says. “A really hot one, in my parents obnoxious, rich people, jacuzzi bathtub.” 

Billy slants a look at him. “I’m not fucking you, pretty boy.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “I said bath. As in bathing. I’m not sure if you’ve tried it before, I mean with all that stuff you style your hair with but never seem to wash out - “

“Don’t think I don’t know about Farrah Fawcett,” Billy warns. “I could smell that shit on you from a mile away, Harrington.”

Steve shoots him a startled look as they pull up to the light to let them out of the hospital parking lot and onto the street proper. “Seriously?”

Billy smirks, looking insufferably cocky for a guy in nothing but a hospital smock, so pale he could pass for a sheet of paper, and with his hair a crazy array of curls around his face. “I know you haven’t been getting any since little Ms. Perfect, but I’ve been making the rounds. You’re not the only one in Hawkins who likes a good spray of Fawcett for a night out. A lot of the girls I date like it too.” 

Steve jabs his finger against the stereo and drowns out Billy’s self-serving smirk with Tears for Fears’ Everybody Wants to Rule the World.

~*~*~*~*~

Steve takes a moment to appreciate that his pretentious house grants him a reprieve from neighbors, at least ones who can see his driveway. Which is especially beneficial as he lugs an exhausted Billy in a green smock up to his front door. Billy mutters darkly under his breath as he tries to get his feet to stumble in the same direction as Steve’s.

“Hurts,” Billy groans as Steve props him up, fingers fiddling with his house keys. 

“Mrs. Henderson had your prescription filled at the hospital pharmacy. I’ll give them to you as soon as you help - me - get -“ Steve shoulders Billy up against the brick wall of the front porch. “Jesus, man, you’re so fucking heavy.” 

“I’m built, you’re a twig,” Billy grunts out. He’s sliding inch by inch down the wall without Steve holding him up. 

Steve turns the key and pushes the door open. Then he gets his arm around Billy’s waist and steers him into the house. Steve is back to hating his house. Stupid long hallways and unnecessary rooms. It takes a seeming infinity before Steve can dump Billy onto the couch. Billy goes down with another pained groan, turning his face into the pillow to try and hide it. 

“Okay,” Steve says, dragging in a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to run the tub, find some clothes for you, and then we can fight the stairs.”

“No,” Billy growls, threat muffled by the pillow. 

“You smell,” Steve says pointedly. It’s not true since the hospital has been handling that, but he figures Billy is vain enough for that to be all the prompting he needs. Billy flips Steve off, but doesn’t argue further, so chalk that up as another win for Steve. 

Upstairs, Steve’s room is the typical mess it always is. But thanks to Angela, his clean clothes are always in the right drawers. He digs through those, pulling out a pair of Hawkins basketball sweats and a matching Hawkins basketball t-shirt. Then he goes to his parents room, crossing their seemingly massive bedroom with a king sized bed and built-in fireplace, past the walk-in closet, and finally, to the connected bath. 

The jacuzzi bath is a corner, triangle shaped, affair. Steve cranks the water, turning it as far to the right as the handle will go. He lets it run for a few minutes before plugging the drain and watching it start to fill up. He dumps the clothes off on the counter of the double sink and only realizes as he looks at the gray lump of fabric that he should get boxers too. 

Steve makes a face at this. Lending a guy some clothes is one thing, having to lend your boxers is just weird. But Steve goes back to his room, digs to the back of his boxers drawer and fishes out a pair of black boxers he has never in his life worn. Then he carries those back to his parents’ bathroom. 

“Billy?” he calls down the staircase. “Are you still alive down there?”

Billy’s answer floats up the stairs, “You’re a rich bitch, Steve.” There’s awe mixed with disdain in this comment. At least he’s still conscious, Steve figures. 

Steve jogs down the stairs, sliding across the wood floor toward the couch. Billy’s pressing himself into the back of the couch, curled small. The smock is putting more of him on display that Steve wants to see, so he shields his eyes as he goes to poke Billy in the shoulder. “You ready, man?”

“No,” Billy grouses. 

“Cool, cool.” Steve nods. 

He presses the back of his hand to Billy’s forehead. His skin is heated, which Steve takes as a good sign towards not being possessed. The Mindflayer hates heat, right? So if Billy’s mind was being flayed, he’d be running cold, not hot, right? 

“Come on,” Steve prompts. “I’ve got the bath filling.”

Billy ignores him. Steve stares. It’s not like he can carry Billy up to the bath. Billy would probably attack him, first of all, and if not, Steve would definitely trip going up the stairs and kill them both. Compromise, Steve thinks. 

“You take the bath, I’ll give you your next pain medication early.” 

Billy turns his face to squint up at Steve. “I want a beer instead.” 

Steve blinks down at him. “One hundred percent sure that was not in the doctor’s recommendation for home care.” 

“Two beers.” 

“Ice water. Tea with honey.”

“A six pack.”

“Orange juice.” 

Billy glowers at him. Steve gives his most charming smile.

“After the bath, pain meds, mashed potatoes, and sleep. I promise,” Steve says, trying to make the offer sound enticing. 

“Mashed potatoes?” Billy snorts. 

Steve shrugs. “It’s on your approved food list and I’ve got some in the fridge.” He’s feeling itchy. Caught in knowing too much about Billy’s situation and seeming to have gone out of his way to do things for Billy. Which he does and he has, but with Billy’s blue eyes oh so critical on him, Steve feels like an idiot. 

With a groan, Billy sits up. “This is the fucking pits.”

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p.’

Billy lifts his hand up to Steve, who takes it and helps ease Billy to his feet. Billy drapes his arm around Steve’s shoulders, leaning his weight against him as they make it to the stairs. Billy keeps himself clamped to Steve as they start walking up, his other hand vice like around the railing. 

By the time they make it up, Billy’s panting quietly and Steve can tell it’s half from pain and half from exertion. Steve steers them down the hall, through his parents room, and into the connected bath. Billy immediately falls back against the counter, breathing deep to catch his breath. 

The bathroom is filled with warm steam from the almost filled tub. Steve looks between the clear water and Billy. “So, the soaps and stuff are there,” he points to the marble shelf running along the side of the tub, “and I’ll be in here,” he jerks his thumb back to his parents room. 

Billy glances between both locations. Something close to worry flickers across his expression. “What if I fucking drown or something?”

“Shout and I’ll come a’running.” Steve flashes a reassuring smile. 

Billy jerks his head. “Help me with the ties.” He tugs at the side of his hospital smock. 

Steve walks behind him and quickly undoes the two ties holding the back of the smock together. As it flutters open, Steve can’t help but gasp. Billy’s shoulders instantly hunch up by his ears. 

“That bad?” he asks. He’s clearly trying to project nonchalance into his voice, but he’s failing miserably. 

“No, no, really, it’s not, it’s - “ Steve fumbles awkwardly. 

“Jesus,” Billy groans. “I must be fucking disfigured.”

“No!” Steve denies, one hand shooting out to grip at Billy’s shoulder in some weird attempt to be reassuring. By the way Billy’s muscles tighten beneath his hand, the touch is anything but comforting. Steve abruptly pulls his hand back, feeling wildly inadequate. “No, it’s just . . .” He reaches out again, this time ghosting his fingertip around the red lines on Billy’s back. “It looks like a David’s star,” he says quietly. 

Billy makes a sound of acknowledgement, and then he shifts his shoulders so the smock slides forward, revealing his sides as well. And yeah, Billy’s ass is on full display too, but Steve isn’t looking, he’s not a creep. He edges to the side, fingers brushing over the additional star shape rounding the side of Billy's back to right under his ribs. 

Billy’s watching Steve’s every move, tracking every gentle touch and quirk of Steve’s brows. Steve looks up at him, touches the collar of the smock. “Have you seen it yet?”

Billy shakes his head. Steve dips the collar down to show his intentions. Billy jerks his chin in a nod. Steve pulls the smock down Billy’s arms, revealing his chest, then slowly further down until the smock is there for modesty and nothing more. 

The scar in the center of Billy’s chest is the worst. The red lines are thicker, an angry red, and it’s clear this wound was the deepest. It has the same David’s star shape as the others. Four in total. A strange ritual-like ring around Billy’s torso. Steve lifts his head and finds Billy staring at him. 

“It’s not that bad,” Steve says again, quietly. Billy’s eyes narrow into a glare that says he thinks Steve is lying. “Really,” Steve swears. “Kinda looks like stunningly intricate tattoos?”

Billy braces one hand on Steve’s shoulder and turns to face the mirror. His teeth are grit, making him look particularly feral as he faces his reflection. Billy’s eyes roam over his usually golden skin, now a sickly pale, and Steve gets that weird feeling again. Because, Jesus, Billy is fucking gorgeous. For a guy or girl and even after being a chew toy for the Mindflayer, Billy is one of the best looking people Steve has ever seen. 

He gets this crazed urge to tell Billy this, but clamps his teeth together. He does not need to get a new black eye after his old one finally faded. “See,” he says instead, “kind of rad, right?”

Billy bares his teeth at his reflection. “Think it’ll fade?”

Steve shrugs. He doesn’t know what the right answer to that question is and he doesn’t feel like taking a guess. “Hey, at least it’s more badass than my gross lip scar.” 

Billy shoots him a look in the mirror. “How’d you end up with only that and I look like I rolled around in fucking barbed wire?”

Steve’s mouth pulls to the side. “Dunno, man. Guess you were closer to the explosion?”

Billy sneers to show he doesn’t believe a word of it and Steve just shrugs again. Billy uses his grip on Steve’s shoulder to turn to the bath and away from the mirror. “Help me get in.”

Which is so Billy, not a question but a command. Still, Steve helps him, Billy losing his smock only at the last second and Steve averting his eyes because as pretty as Billy is, Steve really doesn't need to know what his junk looks like. Steve goes to give Billy privacy, assuming that Billy screaming or racing buck naked out of the hot water will be all the sign he needs that Billy still has some Mindflayer in him. 

But like that night at the hospital, Billy’s hand ensnares Steve’s wrist and anchors him in place. Steve looks over his shoulder and finds Billy daring him to deny him. Steve doesn’t. He slumps down onto the floor, knees scrunched up to his chest. Billy relaxes in the jacuzzi tub, the ends of his too long hair getting wet and unwinding his curls a little bit. 

“Fucking rich people,” Billy scoffs. 

Steve laughs. “I know, right?”

Billy shoots him a look. “Why’d they call you King Steve?” he asks. 

His tone says this is a question he’s been burning to ask. Steve’s mildly surprised. He knew when Billy first showed up in Hawkins that Billy had some weird competition going on with Steve. One that Steve had absolutely no interest in being part of. But since the night of the plate smashing, that had seemed to dissipate. Seemed, apparently, being the key word. 

“Because I was a grade A asshole,” Steve says honestly. “From freshman year to junior year, I was a complete douchebag to everyone. And when you’re in a place as small as Hawkins, that makes you King. Because people figure if you’re going to act like that, you’ve got the shit to back it up. And I did, I had the money and the self-centered ego my parents gifted me.”

“So what happened?” Billy asked. “Cuz when I showed up, you weren’t King of shit. You’re girl dumped you for that creepy kid with the camera, Tommy talked shit about you nonstop, and your basketball game sucked.” 

“First of all, Tommy’s a fucking dick,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes. “You know he was my best friend from kindergarten onward and at no point did I realize that my best friend was a fucking dickhead.” He makes a face. “Well, not until Nancy.” 

“Nancy,” Billy says with disgust. “Why the fuck is everyone in this town obsessed with her? Does she give the best head or something?”

Steve jerks his head in Billy’s direction, who is looking genuinely put out. “Man, fuck off. Nancy isn’t like that.” 

“Then what’s with the obsession? I sat behind her in English for a month trying to unravel that mystery and I’ve got shit all to show for it. She was skipping like half the time to be with camera creep, she’s not that cute, and her clothes are ugly.” 

Steve surprises himself by actually laughing at that. Because he’s been Nancy defender number on since their break-up even after it became obvious they were never getting back together. So he’s never talked shit about her like he did with all the other girls he broke up with. And no, Nancy isn’t like those other girls, but it is fucking nice to hear someone else talk shit.

“She’s scary smart,” Steve says when he’s stopped laughing. “And she doesn’t wear the same jeans and big hair like all the other girls here do.” 

Billy looks affronted. “Fuck you, I made my name wearing jeans and big hair.” 

Steve laughs again, his fingers reaching out to flick a curl out of Billy’s eyes. “They used to call me Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, but I think you got me beat there too.”

Billy looks pleased by this, edging himself further into the bathtub so that the water slides over his shoulders. Then he shivers. Steve tenses instantly, waiting for Billy to be replaced by a monstrous creature. 

Instead, Billy says, “Damn, can you make the water hotter or anything? I’m fucking freezing.”

Steve immediately hisses out a breath of relief. “Unplug the drain and I”ll turn the water back on.” 

It occurs to Steve, as he’s helping top off the bath with fresh hot water, that he’s sort of hanging out with Billy. In his bathroom. While Billy is naked in his parents jacuzzi tub. Which makes him feel like he is on seriously shaky ground. 

Billy must be picking up on the same vibes. He splashes ridiculously hot water at Steve’s chest and aims a finger at him. “This does not make us fucking friends, Harrington. You are still just an overrated dork from the basketball team.”

“You still smashed a plate over my head and tried to beat the living shit out of me, Hargrove,” Steve says pointedly. “Don’t freak, we’re on the same page.”

“You got in my way,” Billy says bluntly and without remorse. Then he shoots Steve a sideways glance. 

Steve doesn’t know what the glance means. There’s a lot that Billy is keeping his expression clear of. Is he looking to see how pissed Steve might still be about the fight? Is he looking to see a matching scar on Steve’s eyebrow? Is he looking to see if Steve is scared of him? Steve doesn’t know and he’s willing to pretend he doesn’t care. 

He points to the soap and other stuff Billy needs. “Give a shout when you’re done. I’m going to go change.” 

The fingers of Billy’s right hand twitch, but this time he doesn’t reach out for Steve. So Steve leaves, keeping the bathroom door open to try and help Billy not feel trapped inside. 

Steve ends up bringing The Old Man and the Sea into his parents room and reading it on the end of their bed. He’s real quiet about it though, he doesn’t want Billy to think he’s spying on him or anything, because he’s not. It’s just, if Steve’s in his room, he’ll never hear if Billy, like, suddenly submerges beneath the bath and starts drowning. 

They had read The Old Man and the Sea during sophomore English and Steve had been surprised to find that he really liked it. Not that he had shown it in class. That had been during his too cool for school phase, where he had sunk low in his seat and pretended not to have read the book at all. In reality, there’s something about the simplicity of the premise, the very real struggle of man versus nature that Steve just really likes. 

This isn’t the first time he’s reread the book either. He reads it about once a year. And it’s just as enjoyable as the first time. The book takes him right out to that isolated sea with the sun overhead and the battle of wills at play. So at first, the splashing of water just seems atmospheric. It isn’t until a particularly vehement splash that Steve remembers he has a guest in the jacuzzi bath. 

“Uh, Billy?” Steve calls out cautiously, placing his finger in between the pages to hold his place. 

“What?” Billy snaps back. 

“Everything okay?” 

Another frustrated splash. “No,” Billy says venomously. 

Steve waits him out a few seconds, but it becomes obvious that Billy doesn’t plan on elaborating on why things aren’t okay. “Anything I can help with?”

Billy scoffs a laugh. “Yeah, come and wash my hair, pretty boy.”

Steve lifts his eyebrows. There was a time, he’s sure, only a few weeks ago, where none of this would be happening in his life right now. No Billy in his house, or his bathtub, or needing help washing his hair washed. “Are you going to pay me?”

There’s a beat of silence. “I can’t stretch my arm that way.” 

“What way?” Steve asks. He turns his book upside down on the bedspread. “Up?”

“Yeah, asshole.”

Steve grins a little. “I mean, you’re really hostile, Billy. How do I know if I come in there, you’re not just going to bite my arm off like the rabid wolves who raised you?”

“Guess you won’t fucking know until you get your ass in here.”

There was a time when Steve’s life seemed normal, the typical teenage life of anyone in Smalltown, America. It’s been a couple of years since that point. So Steve nudges the door to his parents’ bathroom open and peers in at Billy. 

Billy is slumped against the corner of the tub, Steve’s shampoo by his right shoulder, a look of furious annoyance dragging down his perfectly arched eyebrows. “Are you going to help me or what?”

“With charm like that, I can see exactly why half the female population of Hawkins High has gone out with you.”

“You jealous? Heard your stats were closer to one fourth.” Billy picks up the shampoo and tosses it at Steve who catches it deftly. 

“I’ve got more discerning taste,” Steve says. He tilts his head to the side, checking out the visible parts of Billy. 

Billy gives him a pointed look. “This is the point where I suggest you take a picture because it lasts longer, but I’m not sure I’m that kind of girl, Harrington.”

Steve blinks, caught off guard. “No! I was just - I mean, is it the wounds? Or like a sore muscle? Or?”

Billy lifts his left arm out of the water, he gets it to about even with his chest before his face twists in a pained grimace. He drops his arm quickly, splashing soapy water onto the tile floor. “Just fucking hurts.”

Steve nods. “Okay, yeah. So. Hair washing.” He lifts up the shampoo bottle like he’s never seen it before, even though it’s the same brand he’s been using since middle school. 

Billy looks up at him, eyes drowsy, like Steve is boring him with his internal criss of how to wash another person’s hair. Steve’s only had one serious girlfriend, Nancy, and they definitely didn’t get to the hair washing part of their relationship. They barely made it to the ‘hold my hair back while I puke’ stage before Nancy unceremoniously dropped him. 

“Alright, yeah,” Steve says, shaking out his arms and shoulders, like he’s prepping for a work out. He kneels down, padding his knees on the bathmat at the side of the tub. He sets down the shampoo, rolls up his sleeves, then eyes Billy’s curls critically. 

“Any fucking day now, Harrington,” Billy grouses. 

“Okay, yeah, I know. But, like, what if I snag on your curls?” Steve feels like an idiot asking it and Billy is looking at him like he’s an even bigger idiot. 

“Just rub the shampoo all over, okay? Like it’s your own fucking massive head of hair.” 

Steve uncaps the shampoo, dumps a decent amount into his palm, sets the shampoo bottle aside, and rubs the shampoo into a lather before bringing his hands to Billy’s hair. “Here we go,” he warns. 

“Finally,” Billy snarks. 

Washing another person’s hair is like, whoa, trippy. Steve’s trying to channel his inner hair dresser, the way you’re supposed to, like, message at the temples, drag your fingers through the ends. And Billy’s going boneless in the tub, just sinking back into Steve’s touch. 

Steve feels himself dropping into crisis mode with the sudden realization that this is the most intimate thing he’s done with another person. Sex is as impersonal as a back message compared to this. Watching the way Billy’s eyelids flutter shut as Steve presses his thumb against the back of his skull, gathering all of Billy’s hair into a soapy bun. 

Billy’s hair feels smooth as silk in Steve’s hands and he’s kind of enjoying getting to mess with Billy’s curls, especially now that they’re long enough to brush past his shoulders. He pulls Billy’s hair up and tries to set it like mohawk, the way Ferris Buller did in the movie. He casts a quick look at Billy to make sure he’s not about to get punched for this. But Billy still has his eyes closed, his full lips sort of smiling, and for a moment he very vividly reminds Steve of a cat bathing in a patch of warm sun. 

With Billy’s hair thoroughly shampooed, Steve presses the tip of his finger beneath Billy’s head, getting him to tilt his head back “I’m going to get a cup to rinse your hair with,” he says. 

Billy just grunts his acknowledgement as Steve gets an unused glass from the double sink. He dips it into the warm bath water and pours it along Billy’s hair line. The shampoo drizzles out of his hair, leaving the edge of his hair a wet caramel color. There’s a weird twisting in Steve’s gut. Which is understandable, this is a lot, and he’s still a hormonal teenager, of course there are going to be confusing feelings going on. But it would probably help Steve’s stress levels if he could stop staring at the curve of Billy’s lips. 

“All done,” Steve says too loudly when the water finally runs clear and Billy’s hair is fully rinsed. 

Billy blinks his eyes open, like he’s bringing himself back to earth. “Help me up.” 

Billy doesn’t offer a thank you for the hair washing and he doesn’t say please about his request either. Naturally, Billy is one of those people who just takes and takes until he’s sucked everything dry. Steve gets up and grabs a towel. Then he reaches down and offers Billy his free hand. It takes a minute to get Billy upright and stable, with Steve steadfastly averting his eyes. 

“You can handle your boxers, right?” Steve asks, letting his tone go patronizing because he just really doesn’t think he can handle being that close to Billy’s bare ass and junk. 

Billy flips him off, holding the towel to his waist with one hand and reaching for the boxers with the other. 

“Give me a shout when you need help with the shirt,” Steve offers, then he closes the door behind him. He leaves it cracked just a little in case of an emergency. He drops back on his parents bed and resumes reading The Old Man and The Sea. 

When Billy shouts for him, he really takes it to heart, and just fucking screams, “Harrington,” at the top of his lungs. 

Steve thinks about being a dick and waiting him out for five minutes, but in the end, he decides that Billy is still the walking wounded and Steve is supposed to have outgrown his asshole phase. He opens the door to the bathroom, emitting a cloud of steam, and Billy with his hair wet around his muscled shoulders. He’s got Steve’s shirt in his hands. 

Steve eyes the shirt and then Billy, who is hunched in on himself and if he was anyone else, Steve would say he looks insecure. It’s a look Steve has never seen him wear before and it makes something feel wrong inside Steve’s chest.

“Okay,” he says, “that’s not going to work. But I’ve got an old flannel in my closet, you can wear that. It’ll be easier to put your arms into it and you won’t have to reach up.”

Billy jerks his head to show he agrees, then he follows after Steve into his bedroom. Immediately, Billy sits down on the edge of Steve’s bed, and Steve doesn’t miss the way his legs are shaking just a bit. After weeks in bed, this is definitely the longest Billy has spent up and moving. 

Steve turns to his closet, rifling through his clothes to find the red plaid flannel an ex-girlfriend had given him. It had been a short relationship. After the shirt, Steve knew they didn’t have enough in common to stay together. 

“Dude, a poster of The Cars?” Billy scoffs from behind him. 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fuck you, they’re a great band.” 

“Of course you like shit music. What else would I expect from someone who uses Farrah Fawcett.”

Steve feels a lick of anger flame against his thoughts, but a moment later, it clicks that Billy’s voice hadn’t been aggressive. It wasn’t like his normal way of talking, where it sounds like he is trying to verbally fist fight you. This, if Steve had to characterize it, is what Steve thinks Billy would sound like if he was talking to a friend. So instead of snapping back, Steve snags out the flannel and tosses it at Billy’s lap.

“Yeah, well, I’m not surprised you wouldn’t know good music if it bit you in the dick.” 

Billy chokes out a surprised laugh, his full brows shooting up and the corners of his lips tilting up into a quickly hidden smile. 

Steve cants his brow at him. “Let me guess, you like fucking Motley Crue or something equally awful?”

Billy smirks. “Another reason why I’ve got dates lined up through the New Year and you haven’t had a date since Nancy.”

Again, the words could be mean, they could be meant to push his buttons and piss him off. But they’re not. Billy says them off the cuff and with a smirk that is bravado rather than malice. So Steve flips him off and crosses his arms over his chest. “Hey, I’m the one supposed to be getting you into that shirt. But hey, if you want to be bare chested when your sister and step-mom pick you up, that’s your deal.” 

Billy seems to debate it, looking between the shirt and Steve, his eyes narrowed, weighing what it’ll cost him to admit defeat in their shit talking. Finally, he groans, “Max isn’t my sister, man.”

Steve walks over to Billy, picking up the shirt and holding out the right sleeve for Billy to put his arm through. “That’s your take on it, but Max was at your bedside every day you were in the hospital until her mom packed her up to go visit her aunt.”

Billy purses his lips, but doesn’t say anything. Silently, Steve helps Billy get the shirt on. He gestures towards the buttons, but Billy does them himself. Steve steps back so that he’s not right up in front of Billy, feeling a little weird about their frequent proximity. 

“Let’s get you downstairs,” Steve says. “I have a bunch of rentals from Family Video. You can pick whatever you want and we’ll watch it.“ 

It’s another team effort to get Billy down the stairs and into the living room. Steve helps prop Billy up on the couch with his legs across the cushions and his back padded by a few pillows. Steve kneels in front of the tv and starts listing off the names on the VHS cases. 

“The Fog, Re-Animator, The Howling, VIdeodrome, CreepShow, Basketcase, Chopping Mall - “

“Chopping Mall,” Billy says decisively. 

Steve pops open the case and feeds it into the VHS player. He picks up the TV remote and steps back to turn on the TV. When the credits start to play, Steve pushes pause. “I’m going to make popcorn and get myself a Coke. You can’t have either of those, but I’ll heat you up some delicious chicken broth and get you a glass of lukewarm water. You can take your meds after you eat. ” 

“Fuck you,” Billy grouses. “Get me a beer or something harder, yeah? I’ve been wounded, I deserve it.”

“Amazingly, that argument does not sway me, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy your soup.” Steve mocks a salute in Billy’s direction and heads to the kitchen. 

When Steve returns, he finds Billy trying his best not to fall asleep, his eyelids drooping before Billy tries to rapidly blink himself back awake. Steve hands him the soup, the spoon clattering against the side of the bowl. 

Billy scrunches his nose at it, but drinks a spoonful of broth without complaint. Then he points his spoon at the stack of VHS cassettes. “Why do you have so many fucking horror movies?”

The honest answer is that Steve is going for like immersion therapy, if that’s a thing. Like, if he can watch enough horror movies to numb himself to them, then the shit that goes down in Hawkins won’t be nearly as upsetting, right? It’s his working logic and even if Robin gives him some serious side-eye for it, Dustin fully supports that it has merit and that is more than enough approval for Steve. 

Since he can’t say that, he says, “Robin says I am woefully uneducated in horror movies for a guy who works at a movie rental store.” 

Billy snorts a laugh, then grimaces at the action, which is kind of deserved because who is Billy to snub Steve’s boring job? Billy worked as a lifeguard purely to spend the day with his shirt off for a legitimate reason for once. Everyone knew that. Even the Cougar moms at the poolside knew that. 

“Robin’s an ultra-marching band dweeb, isn’t she? Pretty sure that proves my theory you’re nothing but a dork, Harrington.” 

Steve shoots Billy a dark look. “You don’t talk shit about Robin, or you don’t stay in my house,” Steve warns. 

Billy looks at him critically, as if he’s sizing up if Steve is serious or not. Apparently deciding Steve is serious, he adds, “How do you even know her? She’s in my grade. Slumming it with the band dweebs now that you’ve graduated?”

Since the spite is aimed at Steve rather than Robin, Steve figures he’s actually won this small battle against Billy. He doesn’t know what that means. Because Billy does not back down, ever, as far as Steve has seen. “She’s my best friend,” Steve says, because it’s true. “We survived Scoops Ahoy and the mall explosion together,” he adds, because that’s also true. 

“Why the hell was the whole fucking town at the mall when it exploded anyway?” Billy jumps topics and Steve figures that’s for the best, even if the mall is a topic he’s not sure he should say anything about. 

“I don’t know, man. It was the big mall, everyone was psyched about it, it was the fourth of July, there were like Independence Day sales going on? I don’t know.” 

Billy aggressively eats some more of his soup. Steve assumes this means he doesn’t buy a word of Steve’s bullshit. Steve’s not particularly good at lying. Not about big stuff like this. But he’s not going to let himself be defeated by Billy’s v-ed eyebrows while he has a soup spoon sticking out of his mouth. 

“I didn’t go to that fucking mall all summer, why would I have been there on July fourth?” Billy counters. 

“Man, I don’t know,” Steve says again, more empathetically. “Maybe you were, like, dropping Max off at a movie or some shit? How should I know? I’m not your keeper.” He picks a popcorn kernel to pieces, hoping Angela will forgive him for littering the leather couch with buttery debris. 

Billy rolls his eyes in disgust and turns to glare at the tv. “Are you going to turn the fucking movie on or what?”

So Steve does, and they spend the next hour and twenty minutes in moody silence, refusing to acknowledge when they laugh at the same parts of the utter ridiculous glory that is Chopping Mall. 

A few minutes after the credits roll, Billy’s eyes are shut and he’s breathing goes even. Steve picks up the empty soup bowl from the table and carries it back to the kitchen. He stands at the sink, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Everything is weird lately, even for Hawkins. He can’t wait for Max to get here and whisk Billy back to the outskirts of Steve’s life. Where he belongs. Not dead center, like he has been for almost a month. 

It starts as something Steve mistakes for a snore. Then morphs into a soft sound of alarm. Steve frowns, turning around and cokcing his head toward the living room. When he hears it again, his pulse leaps; Billy’s pained whimper has Steve sprinting out of the kitchen and back to the living room. He drops to his knees beside the couch and grabs onto Billy’s shoulder gently. 

“Billy? Billy!” he calls out, shaking slightly, afraid to hurt him. “Hey, it’s just a dream, okay? Don’t worry.”

Billy’s eyes blink open and he stares hard at Steve, fear etched clearly across his face. “Fuck,” he groans weakly. “I hate it, I fucking hate it,” he confesses in quiet pain. “Every time I fall asleep, every time, it’s there. This huge blackness. And it’s so huge, it takes over everything. And I’m not there anymore, I’m not there.” 

He’s crying, still staring through Steve like he doesn’t even know he’s there. Steve’s got goosebumps racing up and down his arms as he crowds in closer to Billy. “But you are,” he promises. “You’re right here, with me, bitching about my frankly delicious chicken broth, and refusing to admit that those girls nipples were one hundred percent scarier than anything that happened in the movie.” 

Billy chokes out a surprised laugh. He drags his form arm against his face, smearing his tears until they aren’t as noticeable. “I’m not surprised you haven’t been with enough girls to know what really scary nipples look like.”

“I don’t want to know,” Steve says solemnly, then shivers, just thinking about what will be forever frozen into his memory from Chopping Mall. 

Billy shifts so he’s sitting up more, his face paling slightly at the effort. “What time are they coming?”

Steve stands up and looks toward the front windows, as if he expects to see Max and her mom rolling up to the house now. “Tomorrow,” he answers. He’d talk to her after the plan with Mrs. Henderson was a go and she said she had worn her mom down to coming back for BIlly. 

Billy huffs a dark laugh. “Pretty boy, I can guarantee you that Susan is not coming for me before the next apocalypse.”

With the way Hawkins works, Steve finds that a rather ominous idea. “Max will get her to come, regardless of her mom’s opinion of you. Which, why would you piss off your step-mom?” 

Steve’s genuinely curious. He understands completely about pissing your biological parents off since he spends half his time either desperately trying to avoid pissing off his dad or very intentionally setting out to piss his dad off. But step-parents are a non entity in his life and he wonders if they’re better or worse than biological parents. 

“Susan is just another idiot in a long line of bimbos who think my dad is some kind of Colossus that has deigned them with his glory.” Billy gently shakes his dry locks out of his eyes, eyes that were narrowed with disgust. 

Without his normal hair product, Billy looks softer around the edges. Steve has this horrible urge to reach out and brush back his hair, the ends of which are curling against his temples. The compulsion makes him feel jittering in his own skin. He has clearly been spending way too much of his time with this one guy and not enough of it with any other living being. Otherwise he wouldn’t be feeling like this, like he did with Nancy. 

“My dad sucks too,” Steve offers. 

Billy looks at him with real contempt. “Oh really? Did Daddy not buy you that new Mercedes-Benz you wanted?”

“No,” Steve says, not letting himself be pushed by Billy’s aggression. They had been tiptoeing around friendship earlier and Steve would greatly prefer that to their continued antagonism. “Just the usual bullshit about how I’m the biggest disappointment in his life. I’ve wasted any talents I might have had. I’m too stupid to go to college. You know, all the old standbys.” 

Steve doesn’t talk about it to that many people, the way his dad has worked on crumbling Steve’s already rather fragile sense of self-esteem since Steve started high school. It’s embarrassing and demeaning and Steve already feels stupid for telling Billy when Billy suddenly says, “Fuck dads.”

Steve looks up at him, a grins. “Yeah, for real, fuck those assholes.”

Billy reaches for his glass of water but can’t get to it without stretching. Steve picks up the glass and hands it to him before taking a seat in the armchair next to the couch. “So why does your dad suck?”

Billy gulps down some water before encircling the glass in his hands. “He’s the reason my mom left. He’s the reason I’m stuck in Bumfuck, Idaho with you. And he’s the reason -” But Billy bites into his bottom lip to keep from saying more. 

Steve bobs his head in understanding. “I mean, my parents aren’t divorced, but they fucking should be. The way they are with each other, just constantly screaming and tearing each other down. I’d think they hate each other, but like, if that’s true, then why don’t they just get divorced?”

“My mom walked out,” Billy says flatly. “My dad was a complete piece of shit one too many times and she left.” 

Billy doesn’t expand on what happened to her or why she didn’t take him with her. Steve doesn’t press. Parents can be the fucking pits. “But Susan’s sticking around?”

Billy rolls his eyes. He makes the gesture impressively aggressive. “And of course she couldn’t just come be Betty Homemaker. She had to drag her stupid kid along with her. And now my dad’s on my ass all the time to take care of Max. As if she isn’t old enough to look out for herself. It’s such fucking bullshit.”

Maybe a year ago Steve would have agreed. But having seen the other shades of Hawkins, he doesn’t think anyone under the age of the thirty should be walking the streets alone. “Well,” Steve says hesitantly, “I mean, Max doesn’t seem like the worst?”

Billy sneers at him. “You don’t live with her. She’s -” he breaks off, shaking his head.

“She made me take her to the hospital to see you. Every day. Until her mom took her out of town. Which is when she made me promise to visit you every day.” Steve politely keeps his eyes on their popcorn stucco ceiling, letting Billy work through this information. 

After a while, Billy huffs. “Whatever, man. I don’t want to talk about my stupid homelife.” 

“Okay,” Steve agrees. 

Billy shifts uncomfortably on the couch and Steve takes a moment to scrutinize him. Billy’s not exactly tall-tall, like six feet or anything. But he’s still taller than the couch and currently he’s scrunched up in a way that has Steve worried about strained wounds and shit. 

“Let’s go up to my room,” he suggests. 

“Why, you gonna put me on a sleeping bag?” Billy has his eyes narrowed with distrust. 

“Hey,” Steve smirks, “I’m a gentleman. Seeing as you almost died and shit, I”ll let you sleep in my bed and I’ll take the sleeping bag. But I’m not changing my sheets for you.”

The corners of Billy’s eyes crinkle upwards. “You better not drool on your pillow, Harrington.”

“You better not bleed on my sheets, Hargrove.”

Billy smirks. “Deal.” 

It’s another two man collaboration to get Billy up the stairs and into Steve’s bedroom. He can tell the painkillers are wearing off from how willing Billy is to let Steve carry most of his weight. He’s white as a sheet by the time they get him in Steve’s bed, his bangs damp with sweat. 

“I’m gonna get some water, okay?” Steve says on his way back to the door. Billy grunts to show he’s heard. 

Steve takes the stairs two at a time, stopping in the kitchen to gather up Billy’s pill bottles and two glasses of water. When he gets back to his bedroom, Billy has Steve’s Playboy open, clearly ogling the centerfold.

“Uhm,” Steve says awkwardly. He waffles for a moment before depositing the medicine and water on his desk instead of the nightstand. “Like, maybe ask before rifling through my drawers?”

“Fuck you. If you have enough spare change to buy a Playboy, you should be fucking sharing with the permanently wounded,” Billy says indignantly. He turns the magazine vertically, eyes scanning the picture hungrily. 

Heat burns brightly in Steve’s cheeks. It’s not like he hasn’t gone through this exact magazine with Tommy before, but with Billy it feels different. It gives him that jittery feeling beneath his skin again. “Do you, like, want me to leave you two alone?” Steve tries to joke. 

Without a word, Billy reaches his right hand beneath Steve’s sheets. Steve yelps in disbelief. And then Billy is dropping the magazine and laughing, a short sound to keep from aggravating the pain in his chest. “Dude, you are so fucking jumpy. I might be hard up right now, but not enough to jerk it in your fucking bed.”

Steve kind of languishes into his desk chair. “Thank fuck for small favors.” 

Billy flips him off lazily. “Not like you’re getting action in here either, if that full box of condoms is there any indicator.”

“Privacy!” Steve gasps, appalled and embarrassed. 

Billy laughs choppily again. He presses himself comfortably into Steve’s pillow, half propped up against the headboard. Then he fixes Steve with his bright blue eyes. “Why the fuck did you come visit me at the hospital everyday? I broke a plate over your fucking head, man. There is no love lost between us.” 

Steve tilts his head to accede this point. “It did occur to me later on that it probably did seem kind of weird that I was hanging out with a bunch of middle schoolers at night in an empty house with a hole in the wall. And the only girl was Max. So, I could maybe see how that would be creepy looking, even though it wasn’t,” Steve hastens to add. “Will’s mom asked me to watch the kids because they thought Will might be dying and they didn’t want the kids trying to follow them to the hospital." Steve fabricates the truth with white lies. 

“So, I can kind of understand why you might have gone for me. But then you were a raging racist to Lucas which, for the record, I am still holding against you in a major way, so yeah, I was definitely going to fight you to keep you from killing him.” 

“I don’t care that he’s black,” Billy says irritated.

“Bullshit,” Steve says flatly. They stare at each other across the expanse of Steve’s bedroom. 

“I don’t,” Billy repeats firmly. “My dad though? Yeah, he’d going fucking wild if he saw Max with Lucas. And guess who is gonna get beat to hell for that? Because it sure as hell isn’t going to be Susan’s precious daughter. It’s going to be Neil’s piece of shit son who can’t even look out for his little sister” 

Steve allows himself a moment to absorb this and finds it lacking. “So what changed after that night? About Lucas I mean? Because they’re together all the time now.” 

“Max had him come over the house before the Snow Ball bullshit. Susan was thrilled that her daughter was dating such a ‘nice young boy,’” Billy says in a mimic of Susan. “My dad couldn’t say shit after that. Not without pissing off Susan.” 

There’s a couple beats of silence before Steve says, “So your dad’s pretty fucked up, huh?”

Billy huffs a disgusted sigh. “Neil is sports focused. It wouldn’t do for his son to show up to practice with bruises. So the Hargrove’s keep it classy, hit hard enough to hurt but not mark.” Billy’s face flickers with a dangerous smirk. 

“Jesus, Billy,” Steve breathes out. 

Billy rolls his eyes again. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, Harrington. I’ve got my shit under control and I don’t need some bleeding heart trying to weep tears of pity all over me.”

Steve holds his hands up. “No pity tears, promise. But, like, if you want to egg his office one night, I’ll buy the first carton of eggs.”

A quick smile flits across Billy’s mouth. Then he shifts on the bed and winces. Steve jumps to his feet, shaking a pain pill out of one bottle, some unpronounceable antibiotic out of the next bottle, and grabs a glass of water. He offers them to Billy and can’t help but watch the bob of his throat as he swallows. 

It’s not that Steve’s surprised that Billy’s got layers, or whatever. It’s just, it’s a lot easier to hate a guy when he doesn’t have real shit going on that kind of gives a precedent to why he’s so shitty. And like, all’s not forgiven just because - Oh, who the fuck is Steve trying to impress here? He’s shit at staying mad at people unless they hurt someone he cares about. Looking at you, Tommy, you piece of shit. 

So when Billy slumps back against the headboard with a mumbled, “Thanks,” Steve decides to wipe the slate clean. Mostly. 

“You’re still an asshole for cracking that plate over my head. I got a fucking concussion from that.”

Billy bat his eyelashes, unimpressed. “That bizarre ass night ended with Max sticking a fucking needle in my neck and then threatening my junk with a fucking spiked baseball bat. So, I’m thinking you got off easy with the plate, okay, because I would gladly have traded places.” 

Which, fair. Kind of. “Max is a badass,” Steve praises. 

There’s this brief moment where Billy looks proud before he shuts the look down. “She can be a real bitch,” Billy says instead. 

“Hargrove,” Steve scolds, “not cool. She’s your sister - step-sister,” he hastens to correct. 

Billy drags a hand down his face, tangling his curls over his forehead and along the bridge of his nose. “She’s not my sister,” he says into his hand. 

“Why are you so stuck on that?” Steve really doesn’t get it. Because if he got to pick someone for a sibling, he would love to get Max. After Dustin, of course. 

“What do you care? Billy shoots back. 

“Because it’s shitty to Max. I like Max. She’s cool for a kid, she’s actually pretty rad at skateboarding, and for whatever reason, she cares enough about you to call you her brother. So yeah,” Steve shrugs, “I think you owe her more than just saying she’s a bitch who's not your sister.” 

Billy doesn’t say anything to that and Steve figures he’s worn out his welcome for the night. 

“I’m going to go drag my sleeping back out of the basement. I’d feel guilty as hell if I slept in the guest room and you, like, choked to death on your spit in the night or some shit.”

He makes his way out of the room and down the stairs to the main floor. He spends a quiet moment looking out the side door to where the pool glints in the night. Seriously, his life could not get any weirder right now. 

By the time he makes it back upstairs, Billy has also stolen the half pack of cigarettes that Steve had hidden in his night stand. He’s got a cigarette between his fingers as he blows out a stream of smoke. 

“I usually lean my entire body out of my window before smoking,” Steve sighs, dropping the sleeping bag to the floor. “You know, so my mom doesn’t kill me by smelling smoke in my room.” 

Billy looks honestly surprised. “Shit, really? Your mom cares about that?”

Steve makes his eyes wide as he pointedly glances around his room. “This is a half million dollar house, Billy. We've got a fucking pool and a pool shed. My dad has a sports car that he literally just keeps in our garage to look lovingly at.” 

Billy brings the cigarette to his lips, his really full, cherry red lips, Steve can’t help but notice, and takes a drag. He blows the smoke up toward the ceiling. “So like, burn some incense or something, moneybags.” 

“Moneybags?” Steve’s jaw drops. He shakes his head in disbelief, walking over to his window to haul it open. He’s hoping the wind will, like, pull out the smell of smoke. 

“So what’s it like having gold lining your pockets?” Billy asks snidely. 

Steve shrugs. “I don’t really know? It’s my dad’s money and he is really great at reminding me about that. It’s why I was working that stupid job at Scoops Ahoy this summer.” 

"Because your dad wants you to earn a buck before joining the family business?” Billy holds out the cigarette as a peace offering and Steve accepts it. 

He still leans his entire front half out the window while he takes a drag, blowing the smoke into the late evening air. “No, that was a punishment because I’m too dumb to get into college.”

Billy cants a brow at this, the one that wasn’t scarred before May. The rumors around school had it that Billy got into a bar fight with some other hair metal asshole after Billy slept with the guy's girlfiend. Steve’s not entirely sure he doesn’t believe that rumor. “I thought you being bad at school was, like, a look.”

“It’s not,” Steve says flatly. 

Billy lifts one shoulder in what is clearly his current form of a shrug. “Can’t have everything, pretty boy.” He holds his hand out for the cigarette and when Steve passes it back, he adds, “Well, except for me, obviously. Good looks, wicked smart, and a heart of gold.” He smirks at Steve. 

“Right, totally,” Steve agrees with a furrowed brow. “Because all the guys I know with a heart of gold shove their teammates to the ground and bark at them about planting their feet.” 

“Just trying to improve your game, pretty boy.” Billy’s smirk widens and then he does that thing. That thing that he does that Steve hates. That thing where he curls his tongue between his teeth and just fucking grins. 

And it’s just Billy and Steve in his house and Billy’s acting halfway human and he’s doing that stupid fucking thing with his tongue and all Steve can think about is how white Billy’s teeth are. How perfectly white and straight. Just like his fucking perfect blue eyes, a kind of ocean blue that girls would die for. And his stupid fucking eyelashes, so long that you know rain catches in them. 

And it’s right about then that Steve shuts his brain completely down. “I need to - yeah - “ he jerks his thumb at his bedroom door. “Robin - said I’d call - yeah -” 

He races down the steps to the main floor and from there to the basement where he proceeds to hyperventilate. When the rushing in his ears stops and his heart isn’t beating so hard he thinks’ he’ll puke, he grabs the phone from the side table by their downstairs couch, in front of their downstairs television (naturally), and dials in Robin’s number. He messes up twice because his fingers are shaking. 

“Buckley Residence,” Mrs. Buckley answers. 

“Hi, It’s Steve Harrington.” Steve puts all of his charm into his greeting to hide the crisis going on in his mind. 

“Oh, hi, Steve, honey! Let me get Robin! She just came in from seeing Tracey. Have you met Tracey? She is such a nice young lady!” 

Mrs. Buckley is a well of optimism which is just really surprising considering how gloriously sarcastic her daughter is. Eventually the phone gets handed off with a shout from Robin, her hand clearly over the mouthpiece, “Mom! I’ve got it in my room!” 

They both wait for the tell tale click and then Steve just blurts it out. “I think Billy’s hot!”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Well, yeah, because he is. In that whole curly mullet, gorgeous eyes, tanned skin way.” 

“No, I don’t mean objectively as another guy about another guy. I mean it the way I think Kim Basinger is hot!” Steve yanks on his hair, pulling hard enough that it actually hurts. Oh, fuck, wasn’t he just down here telling himself life could not get weirder? Why would he do that? Why would he jinx himself like that?

“Oh,” Robin says. “Ohhhh. Are you, like, okay with that though?”

“I don’t know!” Steve whines. “I’m freaking out so I called you. Because I know I like girls. I know I think they are hot and that I want to kiss them and have sex. I know that. But this - with Billy?”

“Well,” Robin says slowly, “you can like both, you know? It’s okay to like both guys and girls. To want those things with boys and girls.”

Steve drags in a few deep breaths. “Are you sure? Because I don’t know anyone else who does and I really don’t want to -”

“Steve, breathe,” Robin coaches. “Maybe this is just a Billy thing -”

“If Kurt Russell asked me to go down on him, I would drop to my fucking knees.” It comes out in a flood of honesty. 

Robin’s bright laughter bubbles up. “Oh my god, Steve. At least you have good taste.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Steve slumps down onto the basement couch. “I cannot believe this happened to me. He was like my sworn enemy a few weeks ago. And now he’s upstairs sleeping in my bed.”

“He’s what!” Robin shrieks. And, oh yeah, maybe Steve hadn’t exactly kept her up to date on that. 

“Okay, well, it’s not like it sounds.” It’s exactly like it sounds and Steve spends the next twenty minutes explaining his current predicament to Robin. 

As they talk, he feels better. For the first time in a long time, really. Being in love with Nancy had kind of blocked everything else out for a while. But when everything came glaring back, he was still the guy styling his hair with Farrah Fawcett and rewatching The Outsiders and Red Dawn one too many times because Patrick Swayze’s face was a godsend. 

So yeah, it’s going to take a while to stop rationalizing why he stares at guys for just that beat too long, but knowing that this is normal, that this is okay? That’s good. Great even. Some days, he doesn’t know how he lived before he met Robin. It’s like he was living a half life and then Robin came in, turned on the lights, and suddenly there’s the whole other half of the world, just waiting right there for him. 

When he finally makes his way back up to his room, Steve finds Billy asleep. His too long hair covering half of his face, his gorgeous eyelashes brushing against the hollows of his eyes, and Steve really wants to tuck the blanket in around him. 

He doesn’t though. Instead, he heads to the hall bathroom to get ready for bed and then dutifully climbs into his sleeping bag spread out below his bedroom window.

~*~*~*~*~

Steve wakes up abruptly. One moment he’s dreaming a peaceful nothingness, the next, he's sitting up, disoriented at being on the ground. It takes a few blinks for Steve’s brain to come online. When he does, he hears ragged breathing from his bed.

It’s not like the other times, where Billy seemed in pain or frantic. This - this actually reminds him of Robin’s dog Mister. The way Mister will be asleep and suddenly he’s breathing like he’s chasing a cat and Robin gently calls Mister’s name until he wakes up and settles back down. 

Steve waits to see if Billy will wake himself up, but he doesn’t. His breathing continues to come in bursts like he’s running a marathon. “Billy?” Steve calls softly.

In the bed, Billy’s feet kick against the sheets. 

“Billy?” Steve calls louder this time. 

Billy wakes up as abruptly as Steve did, with a huge gasp of air and one hand flailing to the side and knocking Steve’s lamp off his nightstand. “Fuck. Fuck! Steve?”

Steve stretches as he stands up, moving over to the nightstand to pick up the lamp, and flicking it on once it’s back in place. In the pale glow of yellow light, Billy’s eyes are wide and his brow is sweaty. 

Steve gives him a sheepish smile. “Hey, man.”

Billy stares at him. 

“You, uh, okay?” Steve glances at his nightstand and finds that it’s four in the morning. Outside, the sky is still dark and except for the infrequent squeak of bats from the woods beside his house, it’s quiet. 

“You said you’ve seen the shadows too. Tell me.” 

Steve looks up, surprised and nervous. “Billy, I’m not sure -”

“Tell me.” Billy looks up at him, his eyes so expressive as he pleads with Steve. 

Steve exhales slowly. “Okay. Okay, but you’ve got to shove over on the bed, because I’m really tired and I don’t want to sit on the floor.” 

Billy moves to the left side of the bed and Steve sits cross legged on the right side, facing him. He’s not sure what he wants to tell Billy. How much he can reveal without endangering Eleven and the others. But it’s late, Steve’s tired, Billy’s scared, and Steve just doesn’t have it in him to keep secrets. 

“Imagine there’s a mirror image of our world. And pretend we call that mirror image the Upside Down. And just for shits and giggles, this Upside Down isn’t filled with people, it’s filled with these things. These creatures that are either monstrous alien dogs or monstrous aliens. And because that’s not enough fun, we’ll also add in an evil psychic entity that controls the dogs and the monsters.” 

Steve stops to see if Billy is going to shout ‘Bullshit!’ and punch him in the jaw. But when he glances over at Billy, he finds Billy leaning ever so slightly towards Steve, like he’s hanging on Steve’s every word. That scares Steve more than anything because it means that Billy has seen enough, experienced enough, for this to be making sense to him. 

Steve clears his throat, fights back the urge to smooth Billy’s hair from his face and tell him to forget everything he’s said. Instead, taps his fingers against his knee caps and keeps going. 

“In this hypothetical nightmare, we’re going to throw in some scientists who realize this mirror world, the Upside Down, is pulsing right beyond our reach. So naturally, they find a way to open the gate to this world. And this gate, it’s not stable. It comes and it goes and it starts opening doors in other places too. And through these doors come the dogs and the monsters, and eventually, the evil psychic entity.” 

“The shadow,” Billy says quietly. 

It throws Steve for a loop. He’s heard Billy mad, he’s heard him yell, scream, whisper heatedly, but he’s never heard Billy quiet, hesitent. Steve nods. “Yeah, the shadow.” 

“What does it do?” Billy asks. 

“It finds a way in, to us.” 

Billy’s eyes fall shut. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and just breathes. Steve watches him anxiously, afraid he’s broken Billy. 

“I thought I was insane,” Billy says when he opens his eyes. “I - I saw myself. I saw a Hawkins that wasn’t Hawkins. And I don’t remember much after that. Except this shadow. This huge massive shadow that was always there, always over me, covering me, drowning me. And I remember Max, she - she pulled the shadow away for a little bit.” 

The kids had told Steve about Billy vs the Sauna. The entire escapade had sounded horribly traumatic. “You told her it wasn’t your fault. That you didn’t mean it. You wanted her to believe you.”

“But,” Billy looks wearily at Steve, “what wasn’t my fault?”

“The shadow,” Steve says. “You don’t remember stuff because, like you said, you were covered in a shadow.” 

“What did the shadow do?” 

There doesn’t seem to be enough air in Steve’s bedroom. Or maybe it’s just that his bedroom seems to have shrunk to the size of his bed. “It wasn’t your fault, Billy,” Steve says firmly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” Billy counters. 

“Ask Max.” Steve has reached the edges of what he thinks is okay for him to share. 

“Did I hurt her? Did I hurt Max?” Billy demands. 

“No,” Steve promises. “You didn’t hurt Max.” Which maybe that’s true and maybe it’s not, but right now it’s the truth Billy needs. 

Billy slumps back against the headboard, his blue gaze still locked on Steve. “I don’t want to be my dad. I don’t want to be another Hargrove who destroys everything he comes across. But I’m not sure I know how to be anything else. I was the fucking worst to Max when our parents got married. And I was so much fucking worse when we moved here.”

“I mean, you are a huge asshole,” Steve teases, trying to lighten the mood from total eclipse of the sun to at least storm of the century black. 

“I am an asshole,” Billy agrees. “And I’m really fucking okay with that. But I don’t want to be an asshole to Max. I don’t want to be someone she’s afraid of. And that’s all I was for the first six months she knew me. So yeah,” Billy does his one shoulder shrug, “at first she wasn’t my sister because I didn’t want her to be. And now she’s not my sister because I don’t know how to be her brother.”

Billy’s looking at Steve like he thinks Steve might have answers for him. Which he just really doesn’t. So he can’t help himself when he says, “Hargrove, I’m an only child. I’ve got nothing for you.”

Billy’s lips twitch in a smile. “Of fucking course you are. Mommy’s little prince, right?”

Steve rolls his eyes dramatically, taking the jab good naturedly, infinitely grateful that they are now inching from storm of the century black to midnight black. “I mean, you just have such a shining personality. I can’t imagine why you’re here in my bedroom instead of one of your many admirers.”

Billy huffs a laugh. “I fucking hate everyone in Hawkins, man. The guys on the basketball team suck, in case you hadn’t noticed. No one here listens to good music. The girls literally fall over themselves because I’m from fucking California. Nothing about this town is interesting or worthwhile. If I had woken up and found my hospital room ringed in flowers, I would have been fucking pissed because then I would have been expected to go thank people for giving a fuck.” 

“Jesus, man, you are just a fucking ball of rage over there, aren’t you?” Steve is genuinely impressed. 

It’s kind of nice that Billy is angry at the world and not just solely at Steve. It also makes a ‘Billy’ kind of sense too. Like their first interactions where Billy was so fucking aggressive. In Billy world, that was probably acceptable social behavior for making friends. 

“You grew up here, Harrington, how have you not given up on life. You have to know everything about this place sucks. It’s so fucking boring day in and day out. And then it’s just the fucking pits because when it decides to stop being boring you get possessed by a fucking evil shadow thing instead. Go fuck yourself, Hawkins!” 

Steve cracks up. He runs his hand through his hair and side-eyes Billy. He’s got this stupid pleased smirk at the corner of his mouth that Steve - well, Steve fucking wants to lick that smirk. Which is wholly inappropriate so he locks that thought away. 

“Where were you going the night of the car crash?” Steve asks, because he’s been wondering ever since Billy mentioned it in the hospital. 

Billy’s smirk stays in place as he rolls his eyes. “I was going to fuck Nancy Wheeler’s mom.”

“Oh my god, no!” Steve shouts in equal parts disbelief and gossipy interest. “That is so fucking sick, man! She’s like, seriously as old as our moms.”

“Whatever. Her body is hot.”

“Gross. So gross!” Steve covers his ears like he can block out what he’s already heard. Then he drops his hands. “Do you know that her mom totally confessed that to her dad, and it’s wrecking their marriage?”

“Whatever,” Billy says again. 

“No, but really, Billy. The girls here are that bad you had to after a mom?” Steve is desperately interested. 

“I don't know if it’s that,” Billy allows, clearly in his element talking about his sexual appeal. “It’s more that I could and she wanted it. Like a conquest.” He slips his tongue between his teeth again. 

“So gross,” Steve mutters in awe. 

Billy just keeps smirking. “I told you I’d leave some of the girls, Harrington, so I had to get creative since I’d gone through most of the ones at our school.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted a girlfriend though? Like someone you’re really crazy about?” Steve asks. 

It had been like that for him. He’d done the date, sex, forget to call thing during his sophomore and junior year. But meeting Nancy, well, it had been different. Suddenly he saw the appeal to being with someone, really being there. Sharing secrets, learning all you could about the other person, making it through fights you thought you couldn’t. And now? Well, he didn’t really want to go back to the dates just for sex thing. He wanted to meet someone and, you know, fucking fall in love or whatever.

“Pretty boy,” Billy sighs in exasperation, “I hate everyone here. Remember? Why the fuck would I want to date someone for more than a weekend? As soon as my senior year is over, I’m driving my Camaro out of Hawkins and I’m never coming back.” 

“Righteous,” Steve mutters. He’s still trying to live in a world where Billy is dead serious about wanting to fuck Mrs. Wheeler. Nancy’s mom, Mrs. Wheeler. He shivers. 

Billy full on grins. “You’re so fucking vanilla, Harrington. I bet you and the Princess never got past missionary, huh?”

“Fuck off,” Steve says with a wave of his hand. “Nancy and I were in love - or at least I was in love.”

“That,” Billy says, pointing at Steve, “that is why you don’t go for that relationship bullshit. These are highschool girls, Harrington. The only guys they’re in love with are on the posters in their bedrooms.” 

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “I mean, Nancy seems pretty in love with Jonathan.”

“Man, didn’t that guy, like, take pervy pictures or some shit? Tommy told me all about it once. Something about pics of Nancy undressing? Like what the fucking fuck is that?” Billy fixes Steve with a stare. 

Steve shrugs inadequately, because, yeah, he remembers that whole thing all too well. But Nancy had wanted them to forgive Jonathan, so he had. But does he still think of Jonathan as that weird kid with the bad haircut who sat behind him in biology and then stole his girlfriend? Yeah, he does. 

“Harrington, seriously, you have got to get out of this shittyass town. There is something in the fucking water here, I swear. The rest of the world is not like this. California - “ Billy breaks off as his expression goes distant. 

Steve knows he’s picturing his life in California and Steve wishes he even knew what the fucking ocean looks like beyond images in the movies. He pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. “What’s it like there?”

And yeah, he knows he’s having a heart to heart with Billy like Dustin teased him about and he’s not even sorry. He kind of genuinely likes this version of Billy. And like, this might only be pain pills Billy, but right now, Steve’ll take what he can get. 

“It’s the fucking best. Nothing like the bullshit here. The sun actually shines ninety percent of the time. We skip the shitty seasons. The ocean is goddamn gorgeous. The people are real because they don’t come from stupid little inbred farm towns -”

“Hey!” Steve exclaims with a laugh. “Fuck you! I’m not inbred.”

Billy tilts his head and scans Steve slowly with his blue eyes. “Maybe not, pretty boy. But you can’t say that for the rest of Hawkins citizenry. And fuck you for interrupting me.” His scan turns to a glare and Steve flips him off.

“Go on, Professor Hargrove, please. Educate me in the ways of California.” 

Billy’s eyes flicker to his and for the scantest of moments, it feels like they’re on the cusp of something. That with just the slightest push, Steve’s world could topple over for the fourth time in two years. Then Billy flicks his eyes upward and it’s gone, the world stable once more beneath Steve. 

“Give me a smoke.” Billy looks over Steve’s shoulder at the night stand. 

“No,” Steve counters. “Do you know how to surf?”

“Of fucking course I know how to surf, Harrington. I lived in California. In a city by the beach. Where they have this thing called the ocean. And I would do this thing called ride the waves.” 

“Such an asshole.” Steve shakes his head. 

“So are you. Give me a fucking cigarette.” Billy holds out his hand imperiously. 

“Still no. Can you skateboard or just Max?”

“What’s with the twenty questions? Yes, I can fucking skateboard. Who do you think taught Max? I mean, I was a complete jerk to her when she messed up, but hey, she can skate good now, can’t she? And she knows how to patch herself up when she falls.” Billy settles lower on the bed, slipping beneath the covers until they are just below his shoulders. 

“Is your mom still in California?” Steve knows he’s pushing his luck. This is the most he’s heard Billy talk ever, including in their shared Lit class. But he has questions and if he doesn’t ask now, he’ll probably never have another chance.

Billy grimaces. “Yeah.”

“So, like, can’t you go back and live with her then?” It makes sense, Steve thinks, since Billy hates it so much here. 

“Well, you see, Steve,” Billy says his name with a sneer, “the State generally looks down on letting kids be raised in a cemetery.” 

“Cemetery? What do you mean?” Steve asks, his brow crinkling up in a frown. 

“I know you probably graduated with a 1.0, but at least try and put it together, moneybags.” Billy rolls onto his side and closes his eyes, apparently very finished with this conversation. 

Steve remains where he is, turning Billy’s words over in his head. “You said your mom left. You didn’t say she died,” he says quietly.

“That’s because she left first and then she died,” Billy shares angrily. 

“Oh.” Steve chews on his bottom lip feeling like a huge asshole. He hadn’t meant to be wildly insensitive. And yet, somehow, this is even worse than the finger licking good chicken with Barb’s parents. 

“Yeah,” Billy scoffs, “oh.” 

And since he’s already this far in the shit, why not go for broke? “What, uh, what happened?” 

“Car crash. Drunk driver.“ Billy’s legs rustle beneath the covers as he tries to move as far away from Steve as possible. “Are we fucking done here now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, standing up and clicking off the lamp, “we’re done.”

He crawls into his sleeping bag and waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. Steve tries to imagine what kind of person Billy was before his mom died. Before she left him. Steve can’t even begin to draw an outline. It’s weird, how your parents can define who you are even when you want so badly to be anything but them. 

Steve has been in a fight with his dad for as long as he can remember. They have never seen eye to eye on anything and instead of ever working things out, they just argue until his dad finally breaks and starts shouting. Steve thinks that’s why he bottles up his emotions whenever he can, because if he let’s it out, Steve’s going to end up screaming himself hoarse. 

Steve turns his head into his pillow, he closes his eyes, and crosses his fingers that this time, his parents won’t let him down. That they’ll remain MIA until this mess with Billy is over.


	3. just want to be loved by you

It’s not the morning light that wakes Steve up. It’s not Billy crying out again in his sleep. It’s not even Angela knocking on his door to ask what he wants for dinner. It’s some asshole pressing incessantly down on the doorbell.

“Make it fucking stop!” Billy groans, throwing the extra pillow at Steve’s head. 

“Eat my shorts, Hargrove,” Steve grumbles, stumbling to his feet and throwing the pillow back at Billy.

Steve holds on tightly to the railing as he more or less crashes down the stairs. It’s too fucking early. Like six thirty in the morning and it’s still summer, so Steve does not need to be awake until at least nine am. 

“What?” he shouts as he pulls open the door. 

“Steve! Finally!” Mrs. Byers pushes past him with a sweet smile. “I was starting to think I was going to need Jonathan’s help breaking in here.”

“Uh?” Steve looks around wildly. He’s standing in his boxer shorts, hair horribly askew, and Mrs. Byers has a plastic bag of stuff in her hand. “What?”

“Well, I just felt terribly about not being able to help with Billy and the hospital. And when I talked to El last night, she mentioned that Max and her mom won’t be home for a little while. So, I have Jonathan on the strictest babysitting duty, not to let either El or Will leave the house while I popped over here to check on our patient.” She smiles brighter. 

Steve blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to catch up. “Oh, uhm, great! Thanks. Uh - Billy’s upstairs?”

“Great!” Mrs. Byers bustles over to the kitchen and starts unpacking her plastic bag. She takes out a large thermos and passes it down the counter toward Steve. “I made you both some chicken noodle soup. Jonathan mentioned your parents are out of town a lot.”

Which makes Steve sort of cringe into himself because the only way Jonathan could know that is if Nancy told him. Maybe Billy’s right. Maybe relationships are poisonous in high school. The last person he wants feeling sorry for him is fucking girlfriend stealing Jonathan Byers. 

“Oh, thanks,” he says to fill the empty air. 

“No problem.” Mrs. Byers takes out a thermometer next and something that looks sciency. 

Steve points to it. “What’s that for?”

Mrs. Byers picks up the thermos of soup and puts it into Steve’s mostly empty fridge. He catches the way her mouth pulls down at the corners seeing a row of condiments and pop, but not much else. “It’s an UV lamp. I got it for Will for some science project he was doing. But El told me that when Billy was, you know,” she pitches her voice low, “not Billy, that he couldn’t handle sunlight.”

“So, you’re going to shine it on him and see if he like, what? Becomes a demogorgon?” Steve shifts uneasily from bare foot to bare foot. He doesn’t like the idea of experimenting on Billy. 

He sort of likes this current Billy and he would much prefer keeping him instead of suddenly finding out he’s been spending the past few weeks with a secret Mindflayer Billy. 

“I know, sweetie,” Mrs. Byers says, her large eyes soft with concern. “But this is something we need to do.” She reaches over and squeezes his wrist in a comforting mom gesture that is utterly foreign to Steve. “You can stay down here if you like.”

“No,” Steve says hastily. “I’m coming.”

And if he stops by the hall closet on his way up to grab his spiked bat, well, that’s for everyone’s safety. 

Billy is sitting up in bed, apparently having heard their voices downstairs. He looks from Mrs. Byers then to Steve with the bat. His expression narrows into his typical glare. “The fuck is this?”

“Hi, Billy,” Mrs. Byers says kindly. “I’m Mrs. Byers, Jonathan’s mom. You might know him or my other son, Will.”

“The dead kid,” Steve mouths behind her back. 

Billy wrinkles his nose at this. “So what?”

“I’m here to check in on you. I brought soup,” she adds brightly.

Billy shoots a look at Steve that clearly asks, is this lady for real. Steve nods his head. Billy tenses. “So what are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing that will hurt.” Mrs. Byers smiles. “I’m going to take your temperature and then shine a light on you. Is that okay?”

The question catches Steve offguard. He wonders if any of the doctors at the hospital ever asked Billy if it was okay before they jabbed him with another needle or took another blood sample. 

Billy opens his mouth and lifts his tongue. Mrs. Byers smiles her thanks, leaning forward and slipping the glass thermometer beneath Billy’s tongue. Then she bends over Steve’s night stand, plugging in the UV lamp. 

She waits a minute before taking out the thermometer. She looks it over carefully. “A healthy 98.6,” she informs them. 

Steve lets out a grateful breath and sees Billy do the same. Mrs. Byers takes the thermometer and sticks it in her back pocket. Then she turns on the lamp, it shines a strange purple like light. 

“Billy, could you place your hand under the lamp, please?”

Steve watches as Billy presses his lips together, clearly thinking over this proposition. “I remember it hurting before,” he finally says. “The sun. It hurt. It made me feel sick.”

Mrs. Byers' brow furrows with worry. “Okay, thank you for telling me. But we still need to see if it hurts now.”

Reluctantly, Billy places his hand palm down on Steve’s night stand. The three of them watch apprehensively as the seconds tick by into minutes. Beneath the pale purple glow, Billy’s hand remains the same smooth expanse of skin as before. 

“Thank goodness,” Mrs. Byers says with relief. She clicks off the lamp and begins wrapping up the cord. “I think you’re in the clear, Billy.”

“The clear of what?” Billy directs his question to Steve. 

“The shadow” Steve answers. 

Billy nods slowly. “So, like, I’m okay, right?”

“Well,” Mrs. Byers says, her fingers flitting against the bangs that are brushing against Billy’s eyelashes, “you could use a hair cut, but other than that? Yes, I think you are.”

“And the scars.” Billy’s right hand traces across the top of his abdomen. 

“We all have scars,” Mrs. Byers comforts. “They show that we’re survivors.” 

Billy’s watching Mrs. Byers with hungry eyes and Steve can relate. He can’t imagine what it would be like to have a mom who actually cared. A mom who cared more about you than anything else in her life. 

“Alright then,” Mrs. Byers smiles at them both, “I’ll be on my way. But if you need anything, Steve, Billy, just call.” As she passes out of the room, she pulls Steve close in a one armed hug and kisses his cheek. 

When the front door slams closed, Billy and Steve are still staring at the space in his door frame where she used to be.

~*~*~*~*~

Mid-morning finds Steve and Billy out by the pool. Billy’s wearing borrowed basketball shorts and one of Steve’s dressy button downs. The shirt is for the rare occasions when Steve needs to go out to dinner with his parents and Billy’s wearing it completely unbuttoned. The red lines of the Mindflayer attack stand out in stark contrast to his golden skin.

They both have their ankles in the pool; Steve idly kicks his feet to send ripples across the water. Between them are two empty bowls which were formerly full of Mrs. Byers’ frankly delicious chicken noodle soup. Overhead, the sun is arcing slowly toward the center of the sky. 

Next to him, Billy pokes at his chest, just to the left of his scar. He winces and frowns. “I look like I got chewed on by a flower.”

Steve tilts his head to the side, squinting at Billy’s stomach. Which is, like, disturbingly toned for Billy being unconscious for about a month. “Well, the monster things? They were kind of plant looking? But, you know, with a bunch of serrated teeth instead of friendly foliage.” 

“This is such bullshit. Why did I get chewed on instead of you?” Billy turns his frown on Steve. 

Steve holds up his hands. “I mean, it definitely tried to, this was before you moved here. And I beat it up with my spiked bat to avoid becoming monster plant food. Then the dog things tried to eat me too and again, spiked bat but also a lot of running. I never went up against the shadow monster though. That, uh, that was mostly just you.” He leaves out El and the others because that’s not for him to say. 

“And the shadow monster? That’s what blew up the mall?” 

Steve makes a face and directs his attention to the water lapping up against his ankles. “Not exactly. Blowing up the mall was the way to get rid of the shadow monster.”

“But what about all the people who died? Did the shadow monster kill them or did the explosion?” Billy tugs on Steve’s shoulder to get him to turn and look at him. 

Steve shifts out of his reach. “That was the shadow monster. Those people were already dead by the time the mall blew up.” 

Billy pushes at Steve’s shoulder again and this time Steve gives in, pulling one leg out of the water to turn and face him. “Then what the fuck happened to me?”

Steve shrugs. “You were there at the mall and for this one really insane moment, you weren’t under the shadow monsters control. You tried to fight back. And when you did that, it decided to eat you instead.” 

“Jesus. Little Shop of Horrors comes to Hawkins.” Billy hangs his head, golden curls covering his face from view. 

Steve watches, silent, before reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “You were really brave, Billy. Really stupid too, thinking you could beat an inter-dimensional alien shadow monster, but also, really brave.” 

Billy shakes his head, shifting his hair away from his eyes. “But I wasn’t what stopped the shadow monster.”

“No,” Steve agrees, “no, that would have been the reactor explosion in the basement caused by Mrs. Byers.”

Billy’s mouth ticks up in a smirk. “Wicked.”

Steve grins. “Yeah, Mrs. Byers is shockingly badass for a mom.” 

“So you got that in the explosion?” Billy points to Steve’s lip scar. 

“Hm?” Steve lifts his brows, surprised Billy keeps coming back to Steve’s stupid battle wound. “No, actually, I got this courtesy of some evil Russians.” 

“The fuck?” Billy’s brow crinkles in disbelief. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that there were also evil Russians? Living in the super basement of the mall? And I was, like, infiltrating them with Robin because we are fucking stupid. And they found us, obviously, and then beat the shit out of us because they actually thought we were government spies? It was a fucking mess.” 

“Un-fucking-real.” Billy shakes his head. “Bet you wouldn’t have gotten so fucked up if you planted your feet.” 

Steve shoots a surprised look at him and finds Billy grinning with his tongue between his teeth. “You’re such a dickhead, man,” Steve laughs. 

Billy cranks up the wattage of his grin and it’s bright as the fucking sun. Steve quickly looks away before he can become dazzled by that smile and do something stupid like try and hold hands with Billy. Jesus. When are Max and her mom going to get here and save Steve from his rapidly developing crush? 

“So,” Billy says, a clear closure to the topic of Upside Down Hawkins, “what the fuck are you still doing in Hawkins if you graduated in May? Like, beyond your dad being a prick and making you get a job? Because I’m pretty sure you can work at an ice cream shop anywhere in the Midwest.”

“I don’t know,” Steve admits. “I mean, I don’t have any money. I never worked in high school and with my dad cutting me off since I’m a low life who couldn’t get into college, where was I going to go?” 

“Anywhere, Harrington, that’s the point. Swipe mommy’s credit card, drive your shitty BMW into Indianapolis, and rent a fucking room before the card gets cancelled. Then get a job and start paying the rent yourself.” 

Billy says it like he’s thought through every possible scenario of leaving Hawkins. He says it like he’s got a journal in his bedroom with each page dedicated to another Hawkins escape plan. And Steve feels kind of pathetic because he’s never really thought about escaping Hawkins. Like, yeah, moving away for college, but not long term. Not forever. He always assumed he’d move back and start working for his dad’s company at some point. 

And Billy must catch that from him because he narrows his eyes at Steve. “You can’t be serious, man. What is there to possibly like about Hawkins?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says with a hapless shrug. “I mean, I’ve always lived here? And for a while, obviously, this is where Nancy was. And then, like, where else was I going to go? And my friends are here so -”

“Harrington. For fuck’s sake, this town is the goddamn pits. Who even are your friends? Robin Buckley and a bunch of middle schoolers. That is so damn sad, man.” 

“Okay, first of all, I’m not friends with middle schoolers,” Steve defends. "Dustin is my, like, adopted brother, and the other kids just tag along with him. Or like, he tags along with them. But the point is, I happen to know his group of friends but they are not my friends. And the reason I was at the Byers' house with them and your sister was because of the fucking alien dogs, so again, not hanging out - protecting.”

Billy is side-eyeing him. “Still waiting for this list of other friends that are keeping you tethered to Hawkins.”

Steve buries his face in his hands, feeling cornered and inadequate. “When King Steve was dethroned, my social life was too.”

“Then there is nothing holding you here,” Billy counters. “Tell me, honestly, that you like Hawkins.”

“I don’t,” Steve says readily. “I’m fucking terrified of Hawkins. I don’t want to be eaten or killed by an alien monster. I really, really don’t. But I also can’t just leave Dustin to get eaten! Or your sister or the other kids.” 

“That’s not your job, Steve. They’ve got parents to handle that shit.”

“Hello? Where have you been? The only parents who know what’s going on are Mrs. Byers and Sheriff Hopper, which, in case you don’t know, he’s dead.” Steve’s getting upset and he doesn’t like how this conversation is making his skin feel too tight. 

He stands up and starts for the side door but stops when he realizes Billy won’t be able to get up without some help. He looks back at him and finds Billy sizing him up. Steve can’t even remember the last time he wasn’t found lacking and he really can’t stand to know that Billy thinks Steve’s not enough either. 

Before Steve can have a total freak out and end up yelling at Billy to stop fucking look at him, a car horn blares in the driveway. And just like that, Steve is saved by the horn. 

Billy stops a few feet behind Steve at the front door and when Steve gives a ‘what the fuck’ look, Billy just looks wary. So, Steve pulls open the door and smiles at the two redheads on his doorstep. “Hi, Max, Mrs. Mayfield.” 

Steve may as well be a butler for all the attention Max pays him. 

“Billy!” Max runs at her step-brother, skidding to a stop right in front of him. She runs her eyes over his scarred abdomen, then wraps him in a hug, the top of her head not even coming up to his chin. 

Billy drops his gaze down to his step-sister and there’s a beat where Steve thinks he might push Max away. And then Billy's arms enfold around her and he hugs her back. “Hey, Max.”

“I hate you,” she whispers, voice sounding suspiciously choked up.

Billy gives a half smile. “Yeah, I hate you too.” 

Steve glances back at Mrs. Mayfield to welcome her into his house, but finds her looking at the step-siblings' reunion. He sees the moment where it catches up to her. That she might be divorcing Billy’s dad, but Billy’s still going to be a member of her family.

~*~*~*~*~

With Billy gone, Steve’s house feels echoingly empty once more. It makes him feel itchy, all this space with no one in it. So Steve grabs a movie from the top of his pile and heads for his car.

Pulling up to the curb outside Robin’s quaint two story, Steve realizes he probably should have called first. Out of everyone he knows, Steve is the only one that seems to have completely fallen off the social life bandwagon. Still, he’s here now, so he grabs the tape and goes to Robin’s front door. 

He knocks and waits as he hears laughter from the other side of the door. 

“Twelve fifty?” Robin asks, opening the door, then her jaw drops. “Steve? Did you join up as a pizza delivery boy and not tell me? And not invite me!” She sounds more indignant about the second option. 

“Uh, no?” Steve holds up the VHS. “I came over to see if you wanted to watch a movie?”

Robin looks over her shoulder. “Well, Tracey’s here.”

“Oh! Oh, sorry. Yeah, I should have called. I didn’t think.” Steve’s already backing down the front steps, feeling like a total loser idiot. 

Robin snags his wrist before he gets out of reach. “I didn’t say no, dingus.” She reels him back toward her. “As long as you don’t care about playing third wheel, then you should definitely come in and hang out with us.” 

“I don’t care,” Steve says. Because he seriously doesn’t. His whole life has felt like a third wheel recently. It’s just nice to be around other people. You know, people who aren’t Billy. Because, like, life has to get back to normal. The normal where Billy isn’t part of Steve’s life. 

“Great!” Robin snatches the tape from his hand and scans the cover. “Sleepaway Camp? Are you sure you’re not od-ing on horror movies yet?”

“What’s not to love? Teenagers and monsters and people dying who are not us. It’s kind of cathartic, you know?”

“I really, really don’t, Steve. But, whatever. I’ll still make popcorn. Go say hi to Tracey. She’s in the basement.” Robin pushes him in the direction of the basement door, tossing the tape to him at the last moment. 

Steve catches it deftly because he played basketball for four fucking years and no matter what Billy says, their team did not suck. Which, no, not the time to be thinking about Billy. That time has passed.

Steve trots quickly down the stairs. Tracey is sitting on the floor in front of the TV, nail polish open on a spread out newspaper next to her. She looks up and smiles in recognition. “Steve, right?”

“Hey,” Steve smiles back, “Tracey from the hospital.”

When Tracey smiles, her cheeks dimple. It’s honestly ridiculous how cute Tracey is, with her short red hair blown out to perfection, her wide brown eyes, and her sweet dimples. Steve figures he should go down in the record book as the best wing-man ever, because Robin seriously owes him for introducing them. 

“Robin said it was cool if I crashed your hang out. I brought a movie.” He holds it out for her to see. 

“Sleepaway Camp? Oh man, I love slashers,” Tracey enthuses before blushing. “Wow. That sounded a lot weirder than I thought. I love slashers a normal amount? Like not a creepy amount? Like I would never actually -” 

Steve can’t help but laugh. “Hey, who doesn’t love Friday the Thirteenth?”

“Right?” Tracey’s shoulders relax gratefully. 

“Miss me?” Robin calls as she clatters down the stairs. She jumps the last two steps and sends a flurry of popcorn to the carpet. 

“Uhm, clearly,” Tracey says, holding up her half painted nails. 

“I can paint yours too,” Robin offers Steve with a devilish look in her eyes. 

Steve busies himself with putting in the VHS and setting up the tv for the movie. “Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”

“Aw, come on, Steve. I’d bet you’d look so pretty in pink.” Robin pouts, before grinning again. 

“Definitely,” Tracey agrees. 

Steve takes a seat on the couch, preparing to argue himself out of a manicure. Before he can say a word though, he sees Robin kneel in front of Tracey and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Tracey blushes, biting her bottom lip. 

Robin closes both eyes, smiling fondly, and kisses Tracey on the nose. Tracey’s eyes shoot to Steve who politely looks away. But who also sneaks a look out of the corner of his eye and sees Robin kissing Tracey’s cheek chastely. 

And wouldn’t that be nice. Like the fucking best. To find someone you could really be yourself with. 

“Okay, okay,” Steve interrupts. “This is just too cute. Should I leave? Because I can go. I don’t want to be ruining the mood or anything.”

“No,” Robin protests. “It’s, just, kinda nice. That this is okay here, with us. All of us.” 

Tracey is watching Steve nervously. 

“It is. Alright, I mean,” he hurries to say. “But let’s all keep in mind I am a lonely single teenager with absolutely nothing on the dating horizon.” 

Robin rolls her eyes. “He’s lying,” she tells Tracey. “There is a guy very much on his horizon. In his bed, actually.”

“Oh?” Tracey asks with interest. 

“He’s not in my bed! He went home! With his sister and step-mom.” Steve makes a face at Robin. 

She shrugs. “But you want him to be in your bed, right?”

“Robin!” Steve grabs the TV remote and pushes play. “Do you want to watch the movie or not?”

“I’d rather watch you get all flustered over the boy whose not in your bed but -”

Tracey gently places her hand over her girlfriend’s mouth. “Finish painting my nails, please? And watch the movie, because it’s got some really gross kills. It’s great."

Robin looks blissed out. “Isn’t she the best?”

Steve turns the volume up on the tv. “Lonely, single, teenager.”

~*~*~*~*~

Waking up the next morning, Steve flails a bit in his freshly laundered sheets. Obviously he wasn’t going to sleep in the ones Billy had. That would be weird and sad.

Okay, fuck. He didn’t wash the pillow case. So fucking sue him. It smelled like Billy. Kind of smokey and kind of sweaty. It probably shouldn’t have been appealing at all, but damn if Steve didn’t sleep like a baby last night. 

Getting up, Steve stretches and walks over to his window. He pushes up the blinds and looks out on a gorgeous blue sky morning. He goes to his dresser to take out his shorts before remembering that Billy was still wearing them when he left yesterday. 

Which is fine, because they were old anyway and not at all Steve’s favorites. It’s fine. He grabs a pair of jeans instead and one of his t-shirts from his closet. After changing, he scrubs his hands through his hair until it’s appropriately messy without looking like he tried too hard. If Steve goes to bed with his hair wet, he can get away without a morning shower. 

By the time Steve pulls up to Family Video during the mid-morning, it’s just before opening, and Paula, the only other girl employee besides Robin, is waiting inside for him. They greet each other with mutual head nods. 

“Can you reshelf?” Paula asks. 

So Steve spends the first hour and half of his shift making sure the tapes are rewound and putting them back behind the empty cardboard sleeves to the movies they match. He doesn’t even notice the customers milling around him. 

It’s mostly moms looking for a movie to give them a break from their kids for the day or shady looking guys slipping behind the red curtain to the ‘adult’ section. Steve hates reshelving in there. Some of the guys get fucking creepy as their hands hover over the displayed options of mediocre porn. 

As Steve is heading back to the front to see what else Paula wants him to do, the door chimes and Steve looks up to see Max. He waves at her. She sees him and frowns before storming in his direction .

“Why haven’t you called?”

“You?” Steve asks, squinting at her. “I didn’t know we had reached that level of friendship?”

“Not me, stupid.” She shoves him in the chest in an eerily reminiscent way to her brother. 

Steve blinks at her, and, yeah, it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it all day yesterday or all morning today, but calling BIlly would be completely surreal. They didn’t even really know each other until a few days ago and really that was only because of extreme circumstances. 

The Billy he knew before that would have laughed in his face if Steve called him. And at this point, Steve doesn’t want that. He’d pretty much rather never see Billy again than have Billy laugh at him or start cursing him out for being pathetic and thinking they were friends now. 

Not that he’s going to say all this to Max. He shrugs instead. 

Max intensifies her glare. “Call him, stupid.”

“Hey now,” Steve complains. “What’s with the stupid stuff? Did I not rescue him from the hospital and harbor him in my very own home? Does that not earn me some respect.”

Max shakes out her hair and straightens her spine. “It would, if Billy wasn’t moping around the house now, because you haven’t called.”

Steve feels jittery at the thought of Billy possibly wanting him around. It’s such a fucking impossibility though. “He’s not moping. He’s injured. He’s probably, like, limping or something.” 

Max stands on tiptoe to flick Steve in the forehead. “That’s why you’re stupid. Call him.” And with that, Max whirls around on her heel and heads right back out the door, grabbing her skateboard from where she had propped it up against the wall. 

Steve turns around, feeling both bewildered and flustered. He’s not going to call Billy. Max is wrong. But, god, he really wants to call Billy. 

As if sensing this, Paula, who clearly has overheard everything, places a possessive hand over the store’s phone. “The company phone is for business calls only.”

Steve feels himself blush to the roots of his hair. “I would never use the phone for social calls,” he swears. 

She eyes him distrustfully. “Can you check the return box?” she asks, basically banishing Steve from the store for the next half hour because everyone knows what a bitch it is to unlock and unload the stupid return box.

~*~*~*~*~

When Steve gets home after his shift, Steve is disappointed to see both of his parents’ cars in the garage. Something lodges in his chest and Steve fights to ignore it. At least they had the decency not to show up until after Billy had left.

He walks in through the garage and calls out, “I’m home.”

At first, Steve doesn’t hear anything. It isn’t until he’s standing in the living room, looking at the half empty bottle of wine and wine glass stained with lipstick that he hears his parents. 

They’re upstairs. There is a lot of shouting, per usual. His mother is screaming about working late being code of sleeping with the secretary. Steve’s dad is repeating his mom’s name in increasingly snide tones. Steve sinks down onto the couch his elbows propped on his knees. And just like when he was a kid, Steve slowly cups his hands over his ears and pretends he can’t hear anything. 

By the time the shouting has turned to faintly hysterical tears on his mother’s side and ponderous sighs on his dad's side, Steve reminds himself that he doesn’t have to be here for this. He can leave anytime he wants. He has a car and friends, after all. 

Which is how he ends up at the Henderson’s for dinner. Mrs. Henderson fusses over him like always when he shows up on her doorstep, ushering him in with one hand behind his back so she can pull him into a quick hug. 

“Steve?” Dustin calls from his room. 

“He’s working on some new robotics thing,” Mrs. Henderson confides to Steve, pride in her voice. “We had a little fire yesterday because of it, but Dusty put it out so quickly.” 

“A fire, really?” Steve muses, eyebrows high on his forehead. 

“Just a little one,” Mrs. Henderson reassures. 

“Steve?” Dustin calls again. “Come on! I want to show you my robot! Well, it’s not really a robot. It’s a robotic drawbridge. But it’s still cool!” 

Steve can’t help but smile as he follows Dustin’s voice back to his bedroom. The faint smell of burnt metal greets him when he crosses the doorway. “Jesus, Dustin, open the windows or something.”

Dustin looks up at him, huge clear goggles covering his face. Whisking off the goggles, he beams that doofy missing teeth smile. “I put the fire out, no big deal.”

“Fire,” Steve echoes. “Fire alone is always a big deal, Dustin.”

“Put. It. Out,” Dustin re-emphasizes. 

Steve ignores this, reaching around Dustin bent over his desk, to haul open the window. Immediately, fresh air rushes insides, helping Steve breathe easier. “What’s the robot bridge for?” He sits down on Dustin’s unmade bed. 

“For science, obviously,” Dustin scoffs. “You have to start small before you can start building the impressive shit, Steve.” 

“Right, of course.” Steve reaches one hand under the bed, grabbing at the first book he finds down there. He pulls out To Kill a Mockingbird. “Did you even read this after I lent it to you?” He blows dust off the cover. 

“Uh.” Dustin has guilt written all across his face. “It’s kind of, you know, about stuff that isn’t science fiction?”

Steve stares him down. “I watched Star Trek with you. You owe me, man.”

“I know, but Steve, it’s boring,” Dustin whines, spinning around in his desk chair to face his accuser. 

“So was Star Trek.”

Dustin gasps so dramatically he topples off his stupid chair and Steve lays back on the bed laughing his ass off. 

“Take it back!” Dustin demands, popping up next to the bed with a pool noodle. Steve doesn’t even ask where he got it or why he has it in his bedroom. 

“If you hit me with that and mess up my hair, I’m going to tell your mom what really happened to her cat,” Steve warns, hands held up in front of him to defend himself from the pool toy. 

“You wouldn’t,” Dustin lisps.

“Fucking try me, Henderson.” Steve narrows his eyes. 

Dustin regards him strategically before tossing the noodle aside. “Low blow, Steve. That is a friendship binding secret.”

“So is my hair.” Steve fluffs it with his fingers. 

“Jeez,” Dustin huffs. He goes back to messing with his robot bridge. “Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting Billy anyway?”

“He’s back home with Max now.” 

“What?” Dustin whirls around in his chair again. Steve’s beginning to think Dustin convinced his mom to get it for him just for the dramatics. “Why didn’t Lucas tell me? Why didn’t Max?”

Steve lifts his brow. “Do you even hang out with Max that much?”

“Well, no, but we’re still friends!”

“Sure,” Steve agrees. “But I don’t think you’re being left out. I just don’t think anyone sees you as being that invested in where Billy is.”

“But you are,” Dustin challenges. 

“What do you mean?” Steve asks uncomfortably because he really isn’t ready to talk to anyone who isn’t Robin about his guy feelings. 

“I mean, why didn’t you tell me he was back home?” Dustin explains. 

“Oh.” And Steve hadn’t really thought of it. Billy had left and life was supposed to resume its normal course. One where he doesn’t talk about Billy because there is no reason to talk about Billy. “I mean, I don’t know? I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“He was living at your house, Steve! The guy who smashed your face in and would have killed you if Max hadn’t drugged him. The guy who saved El from the Mindflayer. Of course it’s a big deal if he’s not living in your house anymore!” Dustin looks honestly outraged. 

“Okay,” Steve says slowly, “well, this is me telling you now. Billy went home yesterday.”

“Yesterday!” Dustin screeches. 

Steve groans and covers his face with both hands. Dustin can be such a drama king. Still, he wouldn’t have the kid any other way. 

But also, could everyone just let this thing with Billy go? It was a weird situation, sure, but it’s over now and it’s not like Steve’s ever going to talk to him again.

~*~*~*~*~

It takes three days for Steve to crack. And, like, it’s not like he’s even being that weird. He and Billy had spent a lot of time bonding, sort of, and so it’s only normal for him to feel like he should go check on Billy. Even Max had said so. Sort of.

He’s still convincing himself of this as he walks up to the Mayfield’s house and rings the doorbell. A moment later, the door flings open and Max gives him a once over. Before Steve can even say hi, Max is screaming over her shoulder, “Billy! It’s Steve!” Then she squints suspiciously at him. “Finally,” she adds under her breath. 

Steve takes a second to look affronted. Three days! It’s only been three days. That is not that long. In fact, some people might say he’s being obvious by showing up three days later. Some people named Robin. But when Billy comes to the door in a pair of ratty sweats and an unbuttoned maroon shirt, Steve’s really fucking glad he caved after only three days. 

“Harrington.” Billy nods in greeting. 

“Hey,” Steve says nervously. “Uhm, I wanted to stop by, see how you’re doing.” 

Billy glances over his shoulder at Max. “Come on,” he says like it’s perfectly normal for Steve to be here. Like this is something they have always done, hanging out together. He leads Steve into the driveway to his Camaro. 

Steve follows suit when Billy hops up onto his trunk. “You’re moving a lot easier,” Steve remarks. 

Billy smirks at him. “Yeah, check out my new trick.” He lifts both arms above his head. 

Steve slow claps. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

Billy laughs, and it’s an easier sound now. “I’m healing up and all that shit. My chest still hurts but Susan called the hospital and they said that’s normal.”

“That’s good.” Steve tilts his head to catch a glimpse of Billy’s profile. The sun is setting behind the trees across from Billy’s house and in the fading light, Billy looks like his former gloriously tanned self. 

“They also said the scars are sticking around.” Billy drops his gaze to his own chest. “So my perfect abs are going to have to be perfect badass abs now.” 

“What a tragedy,” Steve says sarcastically. “I’m sure it’ll be such a hardship for you to be even more dark and dangerous than before.”

Billy shoots Steve a look before smirking. “Yeah, well, we all have our cross to bear, Harrington.”

Billy reaches into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lighter. He offers the pack to Steve, who takes one and holds it loosely between his fingers. After Billy has lit his own cigarette, he hands the lighter off to Steve. 

They sit in the evening quiet, taking drags off their cigarettes, and listening to the birds settling in for the night, squawking up a storm. Steve wonders if it should be uncomfortable, sitting in silence with a guy who was a stranger only a month ago. Instead, Steve feels rested, relaxed, like this is where he’s supposed to be. 

The sun disappears in a flare of blood red. Around them the night grows dark. Billy’s street is on the less well offside of Hawkins and doesn’t have any streetlamps. In the dark, Steve feels safe asking Billy, “How are things going with Susan?”

Billy shrugs one shoulder. “It’s fucking surreal. She gave me this whole big heart to heart about how she hopes I can forgive her for never stepping in when my dad took things too far. And how if I’m willing to give her a second chance she wants to prove that she cares about me and wants me as part of her family even after the divorce.” Billy scratches his chin with his thumb. “So, yeah.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Steve asks. 

“I guess. Pretty easy thing to say with my dad not around right now.” Billy tosses his cigarette butt to the ground. 

“Is he coming back anytime soon?”

“If he is, it won’t be to the house. Susan said the house is in her name and daddy dearest isn’t welcome inside. I doubt Susan’s even on his radar right now. My dad’s still all caught up in squeezing out every penny he can from the mall company.” 

Steve scrubs a hand through his hair. “But if he comes back, what are you going to do?” 

“Stay with Susan until my dad drags me out by my hair.” Billy leans back on the palms of his hands. “It’s been weird. Like, Susan bought me a garage sale dresser with a mirror. She was all flustered about it. Said she saw the milk crate I was using in my room and how I shouldn’t have to do that and she wants me to be happy here with her and Max.” 

Steve’s feeling pretty blown away. “It sounds like Susan is actually pretty cool? I mean, I don’t know shit about her except what you tell me, but it definitely sounds like she’s trying. I mean, I don’t think my mom even knows what my room looks like? Beyond screaming at me if she smells smoke when she walks past my door, I think I could paint the whole room violent orange and she wouldn’t have a clue.” 

Billy bobs his head. “Yeah. That’s what makes it weird. My mom died when I was eight. I’ve been living with my dad for the past ten years. And now all of a sudden Susan is treating me like a real human. It’s fucking wild.” 

Steve nods. “Man, I can’t even imagine. If I went home tonight and my dad told me he bought me the new Duran Duran tape, I’d probably piss myself in shock.”

Billy barks out a laugh. “You're such a dipshit, Harrington.” 

Steve grins, overly thrilled to have made Billy laugh. “Fuck off, you’re the one trying to go and have a well-adjusted life right now.”

“Yeah,” Billy huffs. “I guess I am.” 

“How’s Max?”

Billy groans. “Fucking awful. She made me a fucking get-well card and made all her stupid little friends sign it.”

Steve can’t help his smile. “Was it passive aggressive?”

“Of fucking course.” Billy pitches his voice high as he impersonates Max. “‘I hope you get better soon, shithead, I still need a ride to school this fall.’” 

Steve cracks up. “That’s nice. Very Hallmark.”

“Whatever,” Billy says, but he’s got a small smile. “And she wants to, like, spend time together. She made me watch her skateboard the other day and give her pointers. She didn’t even complain when I bitched at her for messing up.”

“Have you asked her about - “ Steve casts a look behind him at the brightly lit windows of Billy’s house, overly paranoid that Mrs. Mayfield might hear them. “About the Upside Down?”

Billy tucks some of his curls behind his ear, a gesture that shows his hair is still too long, just the way Steve has grown to like it best. “I did. She told me a lot of shit I wish I didn’t know. I can’t believe I have to start actually worrying about where she is when she lies or sneaks out.” 

“Welcome to my life,” Steve says flatly. 

“Fucking kids,” Billy complains. 

“I know, right? Fucking ridiculous. Why can’t they just stay in Mike’s basement and pay D&D? Or, you know, go with Max to the arcade? Anything but go out and try to get eaten by monsters.”

“I knew she was a fucking brat. Why couldn’t I get a normal step-sibling who wanted to stay in and paint her nails while watching shitty tv?” BIlly shifts on the trunk, his arm brushing up against Steve’s. His skin is warm where it touches Steve and Steve is trying really hard not to focus on the way it makes him feel a little giddy. 

This thing with Billy, this stupid crush or whatever, it’s nothing like with Nancy. Steve had played it cool with Nancy, knowing she liked him and knowing he could win her over with his usual charm. But with Billy? Why would Billy want Steve to flirt with him? He’d probably punch Steve in the dick if he even tried. 

So Steve settles for being embarrassingly pleased that they are sitting this close together. Steve rolls his shoulders back to regain his poise and decides the best thing to do is make Billy feel embarrassed too. “So, your sister told me you’ve been sulking around the house since I haven’t called or anything.”

“Bullshit!” Billy cries. “Why in the fuck would I be sulking about you?

“Don’t be embarrassed, Billy,” Steve teases. “I know I’m such an enchanting presence.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy laughs. “I haven’t missed your dopey ass at all. I have missed that Playboy at your house though. Should have nicked it when I had the chance.”

“Oh, yeah, real classy. Steal another man’s Playboy.” 

“I’d be saving you from a sore hand, Harrington.” Billy smirks, tongue licking across the tops of his white teeth. 

Steve quickly looks away. “Think about my hands a lot, Hargrove?” 

There’s this barest beat of silence and Steve whips around to look at Billy so fast he swears his neck kinks. Billy meets his stare evenly. “No,” Steve says, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

Billy sneers at him. “In your fucking dreams, Harrington.” Billy moves to get off the Camaro. 

Steve grabs him by the wrist and holds on tight. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” Steve’s eyes are wide and hopeful. 

Billy slowly turns to look at him. “But you’re always so hung up on Nancy.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “And then I saw your fucking freckles. Freckles, Billy! All across your nose and cheeks! What am I supposed to do about that?”

Billy’s dour expression eases into a familiar smirk. “I dunno, pretty boy, what are you going to do about that?”

Steve’s heart is beating about a thousand beats a second. He feels like he’s going to puke. He feels like he’s going to black out. Instead, his hand curls around the collar of Billy’s unbuttoned shirt and he reels him in. 

When they kiss, it’s like every fireworks show Steve has ever seen. Steve reaches his free hand around to cup the back of Billy’s head, dragging him deeper into the kiss. In return, Billy grabs Steve’s thigh and hauls it over his own, pulling Steve partially into his lap.  
Billy bites down on Steve’s bottom lip and Steve wants to die. Their tongues curl together before slipping apart. It’s fucking perfect. Kissing Nancy had been sweet and wanting. Kissing Billy is hot and hungry. Steve wants to drown in it. 

When they break apart to suck down a lungful of air, Billy’s hands shove up the back of Steve’s t-shirt roaming across his back. 

“Fuck,” Steve whispers. He holds Billy’s face in the palms of his hands, staring into the blue depths of his eyes, made almost black by the darkness around them. “You are so fucking beautiful, Billy”

Billy grins. “That's what I've been telling you, Harrington.” 

Behind them, the porch lights switch on with a sudden burst of light. Steve and Billy pull apart, blinking rapidly to adjust their eyes. 

“Mom said you might like some light,” Max calls sweetly from the porch. 

“Drop dead, Maxine,” Billy sing-songs at her. 

“Eat my shorts, William,” She sings back. 

“Maxin!” Susan shouts from inside the house. 

“Mom!” Max defends angrily. “Billy totally started it!”

“Shut the door!” Billy yells at her. 

Steve’s gaze bounces back from brother to sister before he starts laughing, lying back against the Camaro, one hand thrown across his forehead. 

“What are you doing?” Billy grouses. He fists Steve’s t-shirt in his hand and tries to pull Steve upright, but his arm goes weak and he ends up just resting his hand on Steve’s chest. “I wasn’t finished kissing you.”

“I’ve got an empty house,” Steve points out, looking up at Billy.

Billy licks his bottom lip. “Nice.” He starts to lean over Steve, going slowly to be careful of his still healing injuries. 

The front door bangs open again. “Mom wants you to come inside, Billy! She says you need to take your next round of medicine.”

Billy makes a face. “Jesus. You almost die and suddenly everyone gives a shit about you.” 

“Tragic,” Steve agrees. He sits up and sucks kisses along Billy’s jawline. “It must be the worst.” 

“Awful.” Billy turns his head, his nose nudging against Steve’s cheek. “Fucking terrible.” His lips ghost over Steve’s. “Are you gonna come in?”

“Haven’t I told you? I’m the best with moms. Moms love me.”

“Funny thing, moms love me too.” Billy flashes Steve a dirty look before hopping down from the car. 

“Still gross,” Steve complains. “I’m never not going to think the Mrs. Wheeler thing wasn’t gross.” Steve swings himself off the Camaro, taking the hand Billy holds out to him. 

“Whatever,” Billy says “we just have similar taste in women. You just went for the virgin model.”

“Billy!” Steve shouts before breaking out in shocked laughter. 

Billy smirks shamelessly as he heads toward the front door. And maybe Steve should get on Billy more about the disastrous results of his could-have-been with Mrs. Wheeler. But fuck that. Mrs Wheeler is a grown woman and she made her own choices. 

So Steve slots their fingers together letting his thoughts wander to wondering if they can get away with holding hands under a blanket. 

“By the way,” Billy says, turning around to face Steve when they reach the door. “This,” he shakes their clasped hands, “means we’re dating.”

“I thought you didn’t want a relationship.” It’s Steve’s turn to feel triumphant. Fucking take that, Robin. Steve does not suck. 

“With a girl, Steve. I said I didn’t want a relationship with a girl. I never said anything about you. I've been trying to date your ass since I got here.” Billy yanks him close for a quick filthy kiss that leaves Steve feeling dazed. 

When Billy drops his hand and opens the door to his house, Steve is still shaking the stars from his eyes. But when they clear, he glares at Billy’s back. “I got soap in my eye in the shower, man, that was the fucking worst.”

Billy smirks over his shoulder. “Got your attention though, didn’t I?”

“Boys?” Mrs. Mayfield calls from the kitchen. “Would you like to spend the night, Steve? We’ve got a sleeping bag in the garage and Maxine picked out a movie to watch tonight. What’s it called, Max?”

Max’s red head pops up from the couch where she’s already holding a huge bowl of popcorn. “Red Dawn.”

Steve grins. “Yeah, I’d love to stay.” 

Billy lifts one brow. “Patrick Swayze?” he asks under his breath. 

“Hell yes,” Steve whispers back. 

Billy bites the corner of his bottom lip. “Great taste, pretty boy.”

“Obviously,” Steve says, looking pointedly at Billy. Then he reaches out and pinches Billy’s cheek. 

“Fuck off!” Billy whines, batting off Steve’s hand.

Steve grins gleefully, pinching Billy’s other cheek too. Steve is feeling fairly cocky up until Billy puts his hands on his shoulders and shoves. Steve falls backwards, landing soundly on his ass. As he steps over him, Billy grins and says, “Should’ve planted your feet, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://wistful-wisterias.tumblr.com)


End file.
